


I Can't Stop You Putting Roots in my Dreamland

by Mrox



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 59
Words: 95,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28596729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrox/pseuds/Mrox
Summary: Ana is a lawyer and married mother of 2 from the Pacific Northwest who ends up stuck in rural Georgia alone, just as the outbreak begins, when her car breaks down in front of Daryl's trailer.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 117
Kudos: 177





	1. Breakdown

**Author's Note:**

> This story closely follow the storyline of Seasons 1 and 2 of The Walking Dead, and then veers off sharply in Season 3. This won't fully retell all the events of the show, so a familiarity with what happens is essential. The timeline of how the outbreak begins and what happens in the rest of the world is also different. Rated for sexual violence and smut with very light kink in later chapters. This story is fully written but long, and will be posted over several weeks.

_How's one to know_   
_I'd meet you where the spirit meets the bones_   
_In a faith-forgotten land?_

Sticky. That was the only way to describe this Georgia afternoon heat. I wiped a trickle of sweat off the nape of my neck and turned up the AC, which seemed to be struggling to combat the temperature outside. This humidity was unbearable and I couldn't wait to fly home to Portland in a few days. I'd spent a week in the northern Georgia wilderness on a backpacking retreat with a bunch of herbalists, and I'd learned an incredible amount from them, but I was ready to get back to the Pacific Northwest and my family. I just had a two-day conference in Atlanta, and then I could say goodbye to the south forever, as far as I was concerned.

I knew that I shouldn't make assumptions about folks based on geography, but I definitely didn't feel comfortable being a liberal from "Portlandia" in the middle of raging Trump country, especially with tensions still high from last year's election. Rural Georgia seemed to be shouting its rage directly at me as I drove down the bumpy country road and saw Confederate flags and MAGA signs, hoping for a 2024 victory, apparently.

I'd reconnected over the past week with several people who'd visited my herbalism guild in Portland a couple of years ago so I knew that there were lots of like-minded folks around, but I was pretty sure most of them lived closer to Atlanta, and I was still a couple of hours away and thoroughly out of my comfort zone. Of course, the heat, pantsuit, and high heels weren't helping with the comfort thing either.

I'd gotten used to my comfortable hiking clothes on the trip, but I was heading to a conference on juvenile law and I needed to look professional so I'd spent last night at an actual campground, paid for a hot shower, and done my hair and makeup that morning. It seemed like a waste since my formerly tamed waves were starting to frizz and I was pretty sure I'd sweated off my foundation within 5 minutes of coming down from the cooler mountain elevation.

I fiddled with the AC again, but it just whined and spit out more tepid air. I wasn't sure why I'd splurged on a luxury car rental; this thing didn't run any better than the economy sedan I usually chose but part of me felt the need to prove something to the other lawyers at the seminar. I was less experienced than most of them since I'd gone to law school after my kids reached school age, and while I knew I was good at my job it still felt like I was playing catch-up. I wasn't the young power-hungry law school grad or the experienced confident partner - I was the 34-year-old mom who worked her way through part-time law school as a legal assistant to a friend, and just kind of added duties to her job description once she graduated. It wasn't glamorous, but it was a job that I loved and a career that I was passionate about. Now if I could just project that level of self-assurance with my peers, I'd be golden.

I knew I was back in cell phone range again because my phone began beeping like crazy with missed text messages and calls. The retreat was strictly off the grid, and I was sure my family had sent me plenty of updates throughout the week so I pulled over to the side of the road and picked up my phone. Before I could pull up any messages, it began to ring with a video call coming from my husband. He began talking as soon as I answered, without even giving me a chance to say hello. "Ana! Oh my god, I'm so glad you're okay! Did you just get out of the mountains? Is it crazy? What's happening there?" My face must have registered my confusion because he relaxed slightly and started over, explaining that they'd been trying to reach me for the past couple of days, since an accident at the CDC in Atlanta where apparently some kind of virus had been released.

Details were still unclear, or being covered up, so no one was sure how it escaped or how it got into the bloodstream of the first victims. Once they were infected, people began biting others and even eating them. The science was still murky, but evidently, the virus could be transmitted through saliva and one bite was fatal. Once your body shut down, the virus took over and you were reanimated so you could infect others. They weren't sure if it could spread through the air or water as well, but at this point Atlanta was a complete mess and the military had locked it down. That morning they'd taken the additional step of closing the borders of the entire state, after an outbreak in Marietta that they thought came from one of the reanimated corpses that had gotten out of Atlanta at the beginning.

I sat in my car, stunned, and tried to process what the rest of the world had been going through for two days. My kids and husband just watched me through the phone, clearly distraught, as I tried to pull some thoughts together. "Okay . . . okay. Obviously I'm not going any closer to Atlanta. I'm not far from the state border, so maybe I should go there? See if they'll let me through?" My husband shook his head. "They're really freaked out Ana. Apparently a lot of folks have been trying to get out, forming groups to push through the blockades, and they've started shooting folks on sight. If you don't see any signs of chaos where you are, it might be best to find a place to stay around there, and see how things play out. I just don't think we know enough for you to try anything yet."

I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing, trying to calm myself down. I could see tears in my daughter's eyes and knew they were desperately worried about me and I couldn't let them see me freak out. "Hey guys! It'll be fine - I'm not hurt and nothing looks scary around here, okay? I'm going to find a good place to stay and then when it's safe I'll come home to you and I'll have a great adventure story to tell." My husband insisted on staying on the call while I figured things out, so I put the phone on the passenger's seat and pulled back onto the road. I hadn't seen anything resembling a town since I came down from the mountains, so I continued on, looking for any sort of hotel or bed and breakfast that might be willing to put me up.

I'd only gone about a mile when the car made a horrible clanking noise and came to a stop, smoke billowing out from the hood. I swore, and explained what had happened to my husband. We both tried calling a tow company but didn't get an answer, and I suspected most businesses had shut down because of the crisis. I could see a neon sign on building just up the road, so I grabbed my purse and suit jacket, locked the car, and headed in that direction. The building in question appeared to be a rundown bar named "Al's", with a beat-up truck in the parking lot. There were a few trailers scattered nearby, and a convenience store that was inexplicably closed, but the bar had an "open" sign, so I took a deep breath and headed inside.

It was, predictably, dark and dingy, and the door squeaked as I stepped in. The grungy old bartender looked at me like I had two heads and I couldn't blame him. I was pretty sure, despite not looking my best, that they didn't get a strange woman in heels and a suit walking in on an average Sunday afternoon. I tried to give him my friendliest smile. "Hey, I'm having some car trouble and wondered if you knew of a repair shop nearby. I'm pulled over just down the road a bit." He eyed me suspiciously for a minute, and then slowly shook his head. "Ya ain't too far from the highway, but it's Sunday. Ever-thin's closed on Sundays in any of the towns 'round here, 'specially with the outbreak. And you'd have ta drive a bit to get to them anyway. Yer best bet's Daryl I guess, if he'll agree to take a look."

He explained that Daryl lived in the trailer that had "a bunch a bikes outside" and then went back to stocking the beer cooler, apparently finished with the conversation. I walked back into the stifling heat, squinting at the bright sunlight after the dim bar and looked across the road. Sure enough, there was a trailer with several motorcycles under a carport that seemed to be in various stages of being rebuilt or taken apart. I could make out a figure bent over one of the bikes, and I looked down at the phone where my husband was still connected. "Well, wish me luck. Let's hope this 'Daryl' is friendlier than the bartender. I'm gonna hang up, but I'll call you as soon as I know anything."

I made my way across the street and toward Daryl's trailer. He straightened up as I approached, and watched me warily from the shade of the carport. I picked my way across the gravel outside the trailer and gave an awkward wave. "Daryl? Um, hi, my name's Ana Brewer-Moreau and the guy from the bar sent me over. He said you might be able to help me with my car. It broke down, a little way down the road, and apparently there aren't any tow companies or repair shops open today. Is there any way you could take a look?" I tried to look friendly, but I've never been particularly good at chatting people up, and Daryl didn't exactly seem thrilled to have me standing there.

After a moment of silence he put down the wrench he was holding and took a couple of steps toward me. He had a definite redneck look, with short, messy, brown hair, a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, and oil-stained jeans. But his eyes were a clear piercing blue, and he didn't look high or particularly angry, just wary and a little irritated. He looked up the road to where I was parked and shrugged, and then started walking. I tried to keep up, but with my shorter legs and high heels, I felt like a puppy tagging along after him.

He had already popped the hood and peered underneath by the time I arrived, and didn't seem to notice me hovering behind him. After a bit of poking around he slammed the hood back down and shook his head. "Looks like it overheated. You check the coolant? Notice the thermostat goin' up or any lights on the dash?" His voice was gravelly and quiet, with a rough southern accent.

"No, it's a rental. I just drove it from the airport to a trailhead before I went on a backpacking trip, and then back down from there today. I wasn't really looking at the thermostat or paying attention to the dash but the AC wasn't really working well and then all of a sudden it just made a weird noise, stalled, and began billowing smoke."

He eyed my heels when I mentioned backpacking and raised an eyebrow and I felt slightly defensive, "I wasn't hiking in _these_. I had to change because I'm supposed to attend a conference in the city before my flight. And I didn't know about all the crazy stuff happening there until after I came out of the mountains, because I didn't have service. Honestly, I just need to figure out a place to get my car fixed so I can go to a hotel or something. Can you help? I've got cash."

Daryl didn't answer, but opened the door of the car and put it into neutral, then began pushing it up the road toward his place. I got behind it and tried to help, undoubtedly looking ridiculous and felt like an idiot for not paying closer attention to the way the car was running. When we reached his trailer I stood there wiping sweat off my face while Daryl started poking around again under the hood.

I sat on an overturned bucket, took off my charcoal suit jacket, and pulled out my phone, scrolling through dozens of texts from worried friends. I reassured them that I was fine, and looked back at Daryl. He was scruffy and dirty but his cut off sleeves showed off broad shoulders and impressively muscled arms and I unobtrusively snapped a picture with my phone. I sent it to my friend Liz with the caption, "Stuck in MAGA country, but at least there's a view . . . ," knowing she'd find it amusing.

When it became apparent that Daryl wasn't going to clue me in as to what he was thinking without some prodding, I asked, "So do you think it's something you can fix?" He shot a glare in my direction and straightened up, his eyes flicking to the tattoo now visible on my shoulder. "Woulda helped if you drove somethin' made in the US. This European shit ain't exactly my specialty. I'll need to take it out to be sure but it looks like yer water pump's busted, and I don't got a Mercedes sittin' around to pull parts from so . . .," he trailed off and shrugged.

I sighed, choosing to ignore the snide comment about the car, and wondering if he really knew what he was talking about. "Well, I appreciate you looking anyway, just to make sure. I mean, maybe it's not that bad? Could it just need coolant?" Daryl muttered, "maybe three days ago," and started loosening some bolts and I gave up on any kind of conversation. "I'm going to go get some water at the bar and I'll be back in a bit. Thanks for doing this."

I pulled my suit jacket back on and walked back to the bar, desperate for some cooler air and a cold drink. The bartender didn't look thrilled at my ice water request but I handed him a five and he shrugged and brought a frosty glass. I sat on the bar stool and pressed it to my cheek before fishing my phone out of my purse and calling my husband. I gave him the update, and I could tell he was holding back some frustration that I hadn't paid attention to the way the car was driving but refrained from criticizing. "Alright, so if you can't get it fixed, maybe this Daryl guy can give you a ride to the nearest town? Hotels might be closed but maybe there's a bed and breakfast that's not showing up online that would take you, and then you can find a shop that works on imports. Ask a local - they'll know more than Google."

My husband had taken over his parents' winery when they retired, and we lived in a little town in Oregon wine country that was known for its ecotourism so he was a big fan of talking to locals when we traveled, rather than trusting the internet. I spent the next half hour trying every hotel I could find, but they were all closed due to the crisis. I also texted every person from my retreat whose phone number I'd gotten, but no one answered and I suspected they'd all been drawn into the outbreak drama as soon as they got home and didn't have the bandwidth to deal with my issues. Liz texted me back with a "Yum - think he'd come to Oregon to fix my car?" giving me at least one thing to smile about in this incredibly shitty day.

The bartender just grunted and shrugged when I asked about a local B&B, clearly not interested in helping me. I hoped Daryl would be more forthcoming, so I sent a quick text update to my husband, finished my water and stood up to leave right when a group of rough-looking men walked through the door. I tried to squeeze past them but the tallest, with greasy black hair grabbed my arm and turned me toward him, "Hey hey! Lookie here boys - ya get lost on your way to the board room, girl?"

The group turned their attention toward me and I looked at the bartender for help. He was studiously focused on wiping a glass, clearly ignoring what was happening. "I was just leaving, can you let me go please?" I asked, trying for friendly-but-firm and mentally berating myself for never taking one of those self-defense classes. It didn't work - the guy just pulled me closer to him, grabbing my ass and pushing his face into mine so I could smell the alcohol and cigarettes on his breath. "No, I don't think I can do that sweetheart. I think you feel real nice and we want to get to know you better. Now why don't you come over here and sit on my lap?"

With that, he began dragging me to a booth where his friends sat. I tried to pull free but his hand tightened on my wrist and he glared at me while jerking my arm, "I'm not gonna ask twice, bitch! Sit down or I'll make you -" His head turned as the door to the bar swung open and I jerked my hand out of his and tried to get away. Another of his friends wrapped his arm around my waist before I could take a step, but their attention was on the door Daryl had just come through.

A guy with a shaved head over by the bar laughed out loud, "Darylina! Come to have fun for once? Hey boys, make room for my baby brother." I stared in horror at Daryl and tried to get out of the iron grasp that held me, kicking myself for thinking that trusting some random redneck guy to help me with my car was a good idea. Now he'd delivered me to his friends and I had no way out, and no car to get away with even if I managed to escape them. The guy holding on to me shoved his face into my hair and breathed deeply, rubbing his disgusting crotch against my ass and I felt sick to my stomach.

Daryl glanced at me briefly, apparently unconcerned, and nodded at his brother. "Merle. Guess you met my company fer the night. I ain't gonna share though, so give 'er over." The guy holding me didn't budge but Merle, after a pause, nudged my captor. "If my brother says she's claimed, you best let go." He loosened his arm and I pulled free, trying to get around Daryl to the door but he stepped in my way. "Nope. I helped you with your car, now you gon' pay off that debt." The guy with the greasy black hair laughed loudly. "Nice to see you ain't a total pussy, Daryl. Soon as yer done you send her back here so we can have some fun too."

Daryl didn't answer, just grabbed my arm and hauled me out the door and into the street toward his trailer. I tried to pull away but he yanked me closer to his side and muttered, "I ain't gonna hurt ya, just go along for a minute 'til they buy it." My heart rate slowed slightly and I stumbled toward his front door, unsure where this was headed. He smelled faintly of smoke, leather, and engine grease, and the arm around my waist was strong, gripping me tightly. Daryl opened the door of the trailer and pushed me inside, where the air was only marginally cooler but a fan provided a slight breeze.

He brushed past me and rummaged around in the fridge for a beer before turning to face me, a look of disgust on his face. "Practically have a sign around yer neck sayin' ya got money and yer lost, what the fuck did ya think was gonna happen?" I couldn't believe he was blaming me for the actions of some rapist assholes, his brother possibly included, and flipped from grateful to pissed off in a heartbeat. "Are you saying I was 'asking for it'?" I snapped. Daryl rolled his eyes and took a swig of his beer. "What the fuck ever Princess. Feel free to leave anytime," he said, flopping down on the couch and flipping on the TV. "Ain't gonna be in that car though," he continued. "Water pump's shot, like I said."

I swallowed hard and took some deep breaths to calm down. I peeked out the window of the trailer and saw that the bar parking lot was still full of motorcycles, so those guys were still around. I was pretty sure if I tried to leave on foot they would stop me, and the only way I was driving away was in a cab or with Daryl. I brought up Uber and Lyft on my phone, but I got a message saying all services had been suspended in the state. That left Daryl, and I really hoped he was just an asshole and not a truly bad person. I didn't know if I could trust him but I really didn't have a choice and I'd need to tamp down my anger if I was going to get him to cooperate.

It was already early evening and the sun would be going down soon. I looked around the small space at the dinette and kitchen, and the couch and TV beyond it. There was a short hallway behind me that presumably led to a bedroom and bathroom, and everything was cleaner than I would have expected. He must not have smoked in the house, thankfully.

"Look, I'm sorry for that. I'm a little sensitive when it comes to blaming women for the actions of men, but I realize that you stepped in and saved me back there, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. I . . . really appreciate it, actually. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been there." Daryl didn't seem impressed by my apology, and flipped me off without looking at me. Lovely. I texted my husband, glossing over what had happened a bit so he wouldn't freak out, and let him know I was trying to figure out my next steps.

I cleared my throat and turned toward Daryl, "So what are the chances you could drive me to the nearest vacant hotel?" I asked as politely as I could. "I can pay you for your time, obviously, as well as for looking at my car." Daryl didn't turn his head. "Ya got a room somewhere?" he asked. 

"Well no," I admitted. "Everything seems to be closed. I was actually wondering if you knew of a bed and breakfast nearby, or just someone who'd be willing to rent me a room for the night . . ." Daryl finally looked at me, with a smirk on his face that told me he thought I was an idiot. "Bed and breakfast? Ain't nothin' 'round here 'cept trailers and trailer trash. Folks'r freakin' the fuck out about the goons in the city eatin' each other's faces off and they ain't takin' in strangers so yer shit outta luck if you don' got a hotel room."

I bit my lip and tried not to make any snide comments that would just piss him off more. "I'm just going to make a phone call," I said tightly, and went outside to sit on the trailer step. I'd taken off my jacket again, but my sleeveless white blouse was soaked with sweat anyway, and my charcoal pants were smudged with dirt from pushing the car earlier. I felt disgusting, and I was scared and totally helpless in the middle of rural Georgia. I called my husband and told him that I didn't have a place to stay, and that "the locals" didn't have any helpful suggestions. There was a highway exit just up the road, but hitchhiking seemed riskier than staying here, especially if the guys from the bar saw me. He didn't have any brilliant ideas, but hearing his voice was nice and helped me work up the courage to go face Daryl again.

"So . . ." I began, closing the door behind me and swallowing my pride. "It's going to be dark soon and I need to figure out where to go. I'm pretty desperate at this point, so is there a place I could push my car so that it would safe to sleep in it?" He looked at me for a long minute and then said, "Ain't safe ta sleep in a fuckin' car, even if ya could manage to push it" before turning his eyes back to the TV.

I sat down at the dinette and looked at my phone, trying not to cry. I was a lawyer, a wife, and a mother. I organized large events for the winery on a regular basis, and worked on committees addressing major issues like criminal justice reform and homelessness. I should be able to solve this problem, but I was stumped and scared and a couple of tears ran down my cheeks despite my efforts to contain them.

"You can stay on the couch I guess. Fer a night. Figure somethin' else out tomorrow." I jerked my head up at Daryl's muttered offer. "Oh. I'm . . . thank you." I was taken aback. Daryl clearly didn't enjoy my company but apparently he wasn't comfortable letting me fend for myself with the group across the street, or the cannibals further out. Maybe he was secretly a noble guy?

I wiped my eyes, embarrassed. "I really appreciate that, and I can pay you." Daryl snorted in amusement. "No shit, I ain't doin' it for free." Okay then. Maybe not so noble, but I wasn't going to argue with a safe place to crash.

Loud laughter spilled in from the street and I peeked out the window. Daryl's brother and his friends were making their way to their motorcycles, though they yelled a few crude things toward the trailer before taking off. I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm just gonna go outside again and make a phone call." I stepped out into the cooling air of the evening, sat on the step of the trailer, and took off my heels, rubbing my throbbing feet. I spent the next several hours talking to my husband and kids, texting friends and family that were worried about me, and hoping that tomorrow would bring some options for getting home.


	2. Trailer

To say the night was awkward in Daryl's trailer would be an understatement. When I finally went back inside after saying goodnight to my family, he had finished eating some kind of microwave meal and was washing up. I had grabbed my stuff out of my car and eaten a couple of granola bars, thankful I didn't have to impose on his hospitality (such as it was) any further. 

He brushed past me without a word and headed toward the bedroom and bathroom. I waited a bit, and when he'd finished in the bathroom I took a turn. I peeled off my blouse and pants, and changed into comfortable shorts and a t-shirt, rinsing as much dirt and sweat off as I could. I spread my sleeping bag on the couch and attempted to get comfortable. It wasn't a luxury hotel, but it was better than my car or a tent so I soon fell asleep, haunted by dreams of stumbling corpses, terrifying men groping me, and safety in leather and smoke. 

I was woken abruptly by Daryl banging around in the kitchen, and it took me a minute to get my bearings. I rubbed sleep from my eyes and ran my fingers through my hair, grimacing at the tangles. I'm not one of those women that wakes up looking fresh and rested - I can't do much before I have a cup of strong black tea and let my brain wake up a bit, and my hair tends to work its way into a birds nest on my head. 

Thankfully Daryl was studiously ignoring me, so I went to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, and managed to tame the worst of the snarls. I pulled on another nice work outfit, minus the jacket, since all my hiking clothes were dirty, and took a deep breath before heading back into the awkward tension of the living area where I tried to break the silence. "Thanks again for letting me stay here. I'm sure I'll figure out something for tonight. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help out?" 

Daryl silently drank his coffee at the counter and ignored my question. "Gonna see what I can find out about what's goin' on in the city." He slurped the last of his drink and left, heading toward the convenience store.

I grabbed another granola bar and poured some coffee, missing my tea along with all the other comforts of home. I sat at the kitchen table, turned on my personal hotspot, and fired up my laptop, figuring I'd get some work done while I was waiting. I had a week of emails to slog through, and needed to make arrangements for my clients while I was delayed, not to mention figure out a place to sleep if I couldn't get out of here. 

I was on the phone with my mentor and partner when Daryl walked back in, banging the trailer door loudly behind him. Matt raised his eyebrows in the video call and I cleared my throat, "Hey, sorry, I'm just doing a little work. Did you find out anything?" 

Daryl shook his head, "Roads'r shut down. Buncha people rioting an the military declared martial law. Ya ain't goin' anywhere right now." He grabbed what looked like a crossbow from his bedroom and headed back toward the door. "Goin' huntin'." The door banged shut behind him and I looked back at Matt. 

"Well he seems nice and friendly" he quipped. "Seriously though, is he okay? Are you safe with him?" 

"Yeah, I think so. He's a grumpy bastard, but I don't think he's a bad guy. Some men were harassing me last night and he stepped in and now he's letting me stay here, so I can deal with a little attitude." Matt was almost as old as my dad, and kind of like an uncle to me, and I knew he was worried though he tried to cover it with humor.

We made some arrangements for Matt to cover my clients while I was gone, and I began contacting them to explain what was going on. My clients are either juvenile delinquents, or involved in the foster system in some way - parents and children - so there's a lot of dysfunction and I felt bad throwing another wrench in the works. 

I drafted some motions to continue hearings that were scheduled for the end of the week but I was really struggling to focus. All I wanted was to find out what was going on in Atlanta and the rest of the country so I pulled up the Times' website and began reading about the latest developments. 

It appeared that the infection was spreading slowly out of Georgia, but it had only gotten as far north as Kentucky and as far west as Dallas, and only a handful of cases. The national mood seemed to have changed from outrage at the lockdown of Georgia to panic that it would spread, and support for increasingly militant efforts to keep it under control. 

There was all kinds of speculation about the spread - whether it was just infected people getting out, or whether the virus was transmitted through water or air. The fact that there were still uninfected folks in Georgia seemed to indicate that you had to be bitten to turn, but there were rumors of folks who appeared to have died of natural causes that ended up reanimating, and no one knew if these reports were fake news or not. Religious nuts were railing about the end of times and the wrath of God and everything was horribly bleak, even compared to the tumultuous events of the past couple of years.

I spent the rest of the day talking to my family and watching the news, growing less and less confident that I'd make it home safely. I come from a big, tightly knit family that pulls together in any sort of a crisis, so various relatives were in and out of my house, helping my husband with the kids and grilling me with questions over video chat. I talked to dozens of friends and co-workers as well, all of whom were worried for me and curious what I could tell them about the crisis (which wasn't much).

The adults put on a good face, but we all knew that this might not end well and I started writing letters to each of my kids, just in case I didn't get back. As I wrote out my hopes and dreams for them, trying to express how much I loved them and how incredible they were, tears flowed freely and I was glad Daryl was gone. It all felt surreal - stuck in a trailer in the stifling heat, in rural Georgia during an outbreak of a disease straight out of a horror movie. I just wanted to be home with my family, locked down in our familiar small town the way we'd done during the COVID crisis. 

I heard footsteps outside and looked out to see Daryl throwing a couple of rabbits down on the table under the carport. He got out a bucket and a hunting knife and began dressing them, clearly experienced in the process. 

I had poked around his kitchen a bit and gotten a feel for what he had on hand so I went outside and offered to cook them for dinner, hoping he'd let me stay another night if I made myself useful in some way. Daryl squinted up at me and shrugged, "Be my guest. Don't got a gourmet kitchen in there though Princess - ya sure you'll survive?" I bit back a snide reply and just nodded, "I'll be fine. Nothing fancy, just stew." He nodded and went back to his work so I went inside and began dinner, hoping that meant I could stay the night. 

That evening was more awkward than the night before, as we ate in silence. I'm usually very talkative, as is the rest of my family, and I squirmed uncomfortably at the lack of conversation. Finally, I tried to break the ice. 

"How did you learn to hunt? It's pretty impressive - that crossbow. Seems like you'd need a lot of skill to use something like that." 

Daryl kept his head down, shoveling stew into his mouth and shrugged. He swallowed and muttered, "jus' learned as a kid. Not that hard" and went back to eating. I got the hint and finished my meal without another word. 

Daryl washed his bowl and spoon and turned on the TV while I cleaned mine. Every channel was covering the outbreak so we sat and listened for a while. I tried to hold it together to show Daryl that I was capable in a crisis, and didn't fall apart easily, but the images on the news were absolutely awful. Eventually it just became too much and tears began slipping down my cheeks, partly because of my own situation, partly for my family, and partly for the hundreds of innocent people who had died already. 

I cried in silence, trying to wipe them away subtly but eventually Daryl shut off the set and looked over at me. I drew up my knees to my chest and buried my head, unable to stop crying and beyond caring whether he saw. 

He shifted uncomfortably and then offered, "Ain't gonna kick ya out. Dunno what's gonna happen but ya can stay here until ya figure it out." I heard him get up from the couch and make his way to the bedroom and I curled up on the couch and tried to sleep. 


	3. Goodbyes

It had been three days since my car broke down and Daryl got stuck housing me. The news had gotten progressively worse - outbreaks were happening throughout the midwest and southwest, and even New York City had a few cases. My hometown was locked down, stores were running short of supplies, and there didn't seem to be an end in sight. 

I was determined to make it home eventually, but I wasn't naive enough to think that I'd survive out there until things were under control. Oregon hadn't had an outbreak but we knew it was just a matter of time. Daryl spent some time in the woods every day, partly just to get away from me and my constant conversations with family and friends, I suspected, and when he was home we barely spoke. 

On day two, he apparently ran into one of those things and had to shoot it. Even he seemed a little shaken and said he'd shot it in the chest and it didn't even pause, just kept staggering toward him until he put an arrow in its head. He begrudgingly talked to my husband and my father briefly that night, at my request, to explain what he'd seen and what he had to do. I wanted them to be prepared for what was coming, and Daryl certainly seemed to know how to defend himself. My dad is good at all that survival stuff, and I knew he'd keep the whole family together and take care of my kids as long as he had the right information. My husband would defend them with his life too, of course, but he's not the outdoorsy, gritty type that thrives under this kind of scenario and I was glad he'd have my dad's guidance.

I didn't think my husband was thrilled at the idea of me staying in a random guy's trailer but it was pretty clear that Daryl was barely tolerating my existence and didn't have any plans to seduce me. I was pretty sure I wasn't his type anyway - I've always been more comfortable reading a book than tromping around in the woods, herbalism retreats aside, and I couldn't imagine my career was particularly appealing to him. I didn't mind the way I looked, but I knew I would be described as 'cute' or 'nice-looking' at best, not a stunningly beautiful siren he couldn't resist. 

I'm 34 years old with two kids and a husband, barely 5'2" tall, still hanging on to a couple of pounds of baby weight, and it would be fair to describe me as a frequently bossy know-it-all (though I preferred the term "leadership skills"), possibly because my stature and gender meant I had to work twice as hard for my career as my male counterparts. I felt fairly confident that I was nothing more than an inconvenient houseguest that Daryl couldn't wait to be rid of, and I was determined to do everything I could to make myself useful.

I bought as much food at the convenience store as I could fit in Daryl's tiny kitchen, and cooked dinner and breakfast every day. I'm not a fan of stereotypical gender roles, but there weren't many other ways I could contribute. I married into a French family full of amazing chefs, and I'd had to get pretty good to hold my own around them so I felt comfortable in the kitchen. 

Daryl didn't say much. He ate my food and stayed away from the trailer most of the day so we coexisted fairly peacefully, but I suspected my constant video chats irritated him. Occasionally he'd turn up the TV in a not-so-subtle hint that I should turn my computer off, but when I tried to establish what time he'd like me to hang up with them each night, he rolled his eyes and ignored me. 

I saw him glancing at the screen occasionally when I was talking to my kids and wondered if he would be less irritated if he knew more about my family. "I guess you've seen quite a bit of my family by now," I said awkwardly one night. "My kids are Luke and Lucy, 11 and 8 respectively, and I'm the oldest of four kids so my extended family is pretty big. My brother Jake, who you talked to, is a couple of years younger than me, and my two sisters are adopted, from Korea and Vietnam." 

Daryl didn't seem interested but didn't make any racist remarks either, for which I was grateful. I couldn't tell what he thought about almost anything, and while outwardly he fit the closed-minded redneck stereotype, I hadn't seen anything in his behavior that was a major red flag. 

I finished writing letters to my family and asked my husband to print them out and save them "just in case". Things were getting worse around the world, and we both knew that I wasn't going to get out any time soon. I was just thankful we could talk every day, and that they were safe thus far.

On day three, I decided I really needed to do some laundry so I could stop wearing my work clothes, which felt ridiculous in the hot trailer. I had been to the convenience store once and noticed a coin-operated washer and dryer, so I threw all my comfortable hiking clothes in a bag and headed over. The woman operating the cash register glanced up as I walked in and I tried to give her a friendly smile. She stared at me blankly for a moment before returning to her phone and I gave up. I'd tried very hard to be nice to her the last time I was there as well, and she was rude, so I felt I'd give it my best shot and wasn't going to bother any longer. 

I put in my wash and headed back to the trailer for another meeting with Matt, who told me that the court system was completely shutting down because of the outbreak. This simplified the loss of my help at the practice, but was a really ominous sign. At the height of COVID, things had continued moving, albeit more slowly, and the fact that the government was permanently suspending the constitutional rights of folks in the criminal justice system meant they didn't think the world was going back to normal in the near future. 

I ran back to the convenience store and put my wet clothes in the dryer without a second look at the woman at the counter before returning to the stifling trailer. Daryl was out hunting for the day and I was reading the latest news online when I heard a scream from outside. I peeked out the window and saw the woman on the ground, flesh being torn apart by two reanimated corpses. I watched in horror, knowing that it was too late to help but unsure what I should do. 

Suddenly a new voice screamed out and I saw her young daughter standing on their step, staring at her mother. The creatures looked at the little girl and began to get up. I rushed out on the step and yelled at her to go back inside. She looked at the figures stumbling toward her, sobbed, and disappeared but my yells had gotten their attention and they were making their way in my direction. I slammed the door and locked it, shutting all the windows, but I heard their moans and felt them thumping against the door, scrabbling to get through. 

I grabbed a kitchen knife and curled back against the kitchen cabinet, shaking in fear. This was the first time I had seen one of these creatures in real life and it was terrifying. I had no idea what I'd do if they got in, or how capable they were of breaking through. The door was holding for now, but I could see it give slightly under the repeated weight of the bodies knocking against it. If there were enough of those things out there, they might get through. 

I realized that Daryl had been out in the woods, and they might have come from there. Was he dead? Injured? Had he turned into one of them? My mind raced, terrified at the thought of losing him. Surly as he was, his presence had become comforting and I'd been relying on it more than I'd realized. What would I do if he was gone? 

A sudden thump came from outside as one of the bodies slumped against the trailer and ceased its moaning, then the second one did the same. Someone tried to open the locked door and I heard Daryl's voice. "Ana? Let me in - I took care of em." I flung open the door and wrapped my arms around his waist as he pushed inside, burying my head in his shirt. 

"What the fuck? Jesus, woman, let me go!" he muttered, shoving me back slightly. I wiped my eyes, "I'm sorry, I was just so worried! I thought maybe they'd gotten you or you were hurt, or . . . " I trailed off, embarrassed at my show of emotion. Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged, "They musta come from the highway cuz I didn't see any in the woods." 

The little girl screamed again from outside and Daryl flung open the door. She must have gone to her mother once the dead had been put down, but her mother had evidently reanimated and was tearing into her daughter's neck. I started to cry out but Daryl clapped a hand to my mouth. 

"Ssshh! There's nothin' we can do now." He fitted his bow with a bolt and sent it into the mother's head, then reloaded and did the same to the girl who had stopped screaming and lay lifeless on the pavement. He walked to the bodies and pulled the bolts out, bringing them back to the trailer so he could clean them, face set into hard unreadable lines, and I realized he might have just killed a friend. 

I sat shakily on the couch staring into space, unable to think clearly. I wasn't sure how much time had passed or what Daryl was doing but I jerked my head up when the lights went out. I hadn't realized how late it was, but the trailer was dim and the fan had shut off. Daryl came into view and met my eye. 

"Guess that's the power. Thought it might go at some point." He eyed me warily, probably wondering if I was going to break down. "Ya might wanna call your family. Cell towers might go soon if the grid's starting to fail." I stared at him, reality dawning on me. I had been clinging to the sight of my family's faces every day, avoiding the idea of being cut off from them but Daryl was right. If things were out of control, eventually the grid would fail, at least in the quarantine zone. It was hardly going to be a priority from the outside to keep electricity and cell phones going in here. 

I called my family and explained what was going on, trying to sound strong and steady. "I think I might not be able to talk to you guys anymore. I'll be okay where I am, but I'm going to need to focus on staying safe and I need you to do that too, okay?" My kids were in tears, and I knew they had realized I might not ever come home. 

I tried to calm them and spend our last conversation letting them know how much I loved them. My daughter, in particular, was inconsolable and when I told her I would do everything I could to get home she cried harder. "Mommy, you don't know how to fight or anything! How can you get away if one of those is trying to get you?" Before I could come up with an answer, Daryl came to stand behind me. 

He leaned into the phone's camera view slightly and talked directly to them. "I'll take care a her - won' let those things get 'er." When my kids just stared at him, tears running down their cheeks, he said again, "I'll bring her home as soon as I can. Need ya ta believe me and keep yourself safe, ya got it?" They nodded and I could see them straighten up a bit, feeling the responsibility of Daryl's request settle in. 

I put my hand on Daryl's knee under the table and squeezed gently, silently thanking him. I could tell he was uncomfortable and I wasn't sure what had prompted him to make such a commitment but I appreciated it. My battery was getting low so we said our last tearful goodbyes and my husband sent them out of the room while we had one last moment together.

He had tears in his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know how we're going to do this without you," he said. "If you had just stayed home from that damn backpacking trip you'd be here with your family while all this happened, not thousands of miles away!" 

His words cut me deeply, but I had been thinking the same thing and I couldn't blame him too much. It was true - the backpacking trip was just for a hobby and if I'd been less focused on what I wanted to do, none of this would have happened. "I know," I whispered. "I'm sorry. If I could change it, I would, but right now all I can do is try to stay alive and get back to you as soon as I can." 

He wiped his eyes. "No, _I'm_ sorry, it's not your fault. I just feel helpless, like I can't protect you and we're relying on some random guy. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad you aren't alone but it's hard to trust him with you."

That was exactly the kind of macho stuff that drove me crazy. "Don't act like you're handing me over to him - I'm in charge of what I do, not you and not him." He shook his head stubbornly. "That's not fair and you know it. I'm not saying you're property I'm handing over, just that those of us that love you are trusting this guy to keep you safe and it's really hard to do that when I don't know anything about him."

I decided to let it go, and exhaled. "Yeah, okay. I'm not trying to argue. This could be our last conversation for a long time." We spoke at length about the kids and worried about how they would handle another pandemic, one that was much more deadly, without their mother. Neither of us said it out loud, but I could tell we both thought it was more likely that I wouldn't make it than would. 

Just before my battery died I blurted out, "Don't wait too long. I mean, if it seems like I'm not coming back, it's okay for you to move on. You can't just be in limbo forever." He nodded, tears flowing freely, and reached out to touch the camera. "I love you," he whispered, and I managed to sob "I love you too," before the screen went black.

I stared into the dark, unable to make myself get up and make dinner. Daryl got out a camping lantern from somewhere and lit it, plating up some leftovers that he put in front of me. He made his way to the couch and we ate in silence barely tasting the food. When we'd finished he took my bowl and spoon and washed up, and then disappeared to his bedroom.

I cried myself to sleep on the narrow couch but was awoken by a banging sound just above my head. The wind had kicked up and the small window, which was open to let in a breeze, must have been loose because it was rattling loudly with every gust. Over the noise, I heard a moaning and scraping and saw fingers curl around the edge of the sill. I scrambled away quickly, almost falling off the couch, and ran to the bedroom door. I knocked quietly, frantically whispering "Daryl!" as loudly as I dared. 

He jerked open the door and I clutched his arm. "The window is making a lot of noise and one of those things is trying to get in!" I whispered. He pushed past me, silently easing his way to the couch, and peered out cautiously while I waited by the bedroom door. After a moment he made his way back to me, and pulled me into the bedroom, shutting the door. 

"Three of them. Noise musta drawn them over, but I think they can also smell us. I'll take 'em out," he said quietly. I panicked and grabbed the front of his shirt to prevent him from leaving. "No! You can't shoot all three before they see you at this distance. They'll get to you while you're reloading, and then what? You should wait until morning - maybe they'll even go away, but at the very least you'll be able to see if there are any more of them wandering around out there." 

He grabbed a big hunting knife off his bedside table and held it up. "After the bow, this. An' if I wait that sound could draw more. It's gotta be now." I didn't relax my death grip on his shirt and he sighed, prying my fingers off. "Chill the fuck out, Princess. I'll be back in a sec." 

I wanted to offer to come with him but I had no idea how to kill those things, and would probably just get in the way so I sat in the middle of his bed hugging my knees to my chest, and waited for what seemed like an eternity. I heard the thunk of a body hitting the ground, some scuffling, a few bangs against the side of the trailer, and then silence. Several agonizing moments later, Daryl opened the door and I heard him running the water in the sink before returning to the bedroom. 

He set his bow down and glanced at me, still curled up in an effort to stop myself from shaking, staring at him with wide eyes. "S'fine. They ain't hard to kill, long as you go for the head." I relaxed slightly as he flopped down on the edge of the bed. "Were you able to fix the window?" He nodded tiredly. "Yeah. Should be ok for now" he replied. I straightened out my legs and scooted to the edge of the bed, but leaned over and hugged him tightly before heading back to the couch. I was completely exhausted after the emotional evening and interrupted sleep, and it seemed Daryl was too, as he allowed me to hug him and even briefly wrapped an arm around me in return. 


	4. Flee

The next morning, Daryl had to shoot two more of the staggering dead creatures that had wandered down from the highway. We could see a lot of abandoned cars up there, and it appeared some folks had been trying to flee the state through the northern border. Daryl went closer to take a look, and came back looking grim.

"There's smoke comin' from the direction of the city and I think it's been bombed, which is prob'ly why the power went out. It ain't safe here anymore. We're too close to the road and more of those things are gonna come down. The trailer's not strong enough if we get too many at once, and we can't be locked in here forever if they're outside. We gotta leave."

I shook my head and crossed my arms firmly, "Absolutely not. This is the only place my family knows to look for me. If they start sending in rescue teams we need to be right here. Plus, there's a store and shelter - where are we going to go that has those things and is safer? No, no way we're leaving."

Daryl just shook his head and began emptying boxes and crates of motorcycle parts under the carport. He headed back to the store, and I followed, realizing I still needed to grab my laundry. As I was unloading the dryer, Daryl began clearing shelves of food into his boxes and I straightened up, aghast. "What are you doing? That's looting!"

He ignored me and carted a couple of boxes across the road to his truck where he loaded them in the bed and returned for more. I couldn't ignore it, and walked right up to him so he couldn't ignore me, getting in between him and the shelves. "Daryl! That poor woman and her daughter were killed out there, and you're just stealing? That's wrong and you know it. We cannot act like animals, even if we're in the middle of a crazy plague. Please stop!"

Daryl jerked my hand away and spun me around to face the window, which looked out over the deserted bar and scattering of empty trailers along the road. "Look the fuck around Princess! Ain't no rescue mission comin' for us. The whole fuckin' country's happy to leave us locked in with these freaks and try to save themselves, and there's nobody left around here to help. You wanna stay here by yourself with your fancy clothes and your high ideals, be my guest but I'm lookin' fer somethin' better."

His words hovered in the empty space between us and I tried to process them. No rescue mission. Locked in. Something better. I was suddenly overcome with the gravity of the situation and my legs gave out. I sat on the dirty floor of the store shaken, looking with new eyes at what the world had become. 

After several moments I spoke quietly. "Why did you promise my kids that?"

Daryl, who had turned to take another box to his truck, stopped short with his back to me. He was silent for several seconds before answering, "My ma died in a fire when I was a kid. I didn' see it so it was like she just . . . disappeared one day." Without further explanation, he left the store.

When he came back through the door, I had pulled myself to my feet shakily. "Okay. Where . . . where are we gonna go?" I asked quietly.

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm thinkin' we don't want to be too far out, so we can keep an eye on what's happenin' and get supplies if we have to. But we want to stay away from any highways and towns. There's some campin' areas further south that might work. We can drive back roads for a while, see what looks safe."

I nodded, realizing I just had to trust him with this, a position with which I was incredibly uncomfortable. I was the planner and decision maker in my family - the one who researched everything down to the smallest detail and told everyone else what to do. I was always prepared and had considered every option before moving forward, but in the most precarious moment of my life so far I was forced to let this stranger make the decisions, and trust that he'd keep me safe.

"Are we leaving right away? I've got all my backpacking stuff, which could be useful if we're camping."

Daryl nodded. "Soon as we get packed. Shouldn' have to go too far to find a spot far enough away that there ain't a lotta those things."

I changed into shorts and a t-shirt, packed my clothes (minus the heels, but including my work clothes - I didn't have enough stuff to be choosy) and all my backpacking gear, and helped Daryl fill some tubs with food. I abandoned my moral high ground and we grabbed everything we could from the store, stocking up enough food for several weeks and cases of bottled water. 

I had just done a final sweep of the trailer, grabbing my toiletries and some extra shampoo from Daryl's bathroom when I heard voices outside. I peeked out the window and saw Daryl's brother standing next to a motorcycle. My stomach clenched at the memory of him with those men at the bar and I took a deep breath. I didn't really understand the relationship - clearly Daryl wasn't like those other guys but he also seemed to have a friendly relationship with his older brother. 

I eavesdropped shamelessly, which wasn't very difficult since Merle's booming voice practically echoed in the trailer. "Well well well little brother! Ya plannin' ta leave without me?" he drawled. 

Daryl shook his head. "Was gonna look for ya. Figured ya had to be around here somewhere." This was news to me, and I wondered when Daryl had planned to clue me in. The idea of staying somewhere with Merle was less than appealing, even if Daryl could keep him in line.

Daryl shuffled uncomfortably and looked sideways at his brother. "Ya remember that girl in the bar?" Merle laughed. "Miss CEO? She thank ya proper for rescuin' her ass?" 

"Ain't like that" Daryl said gruffly. "She didn' have any place to go though, so she's been stayin' here an' she's comin' with me." 

Merle rocked back on his heels, arms crossed. "We ain't takin' some snooty soccer mom along just cuz she looks at ya sweet. She'll get both our asses killed . . . unless ya think she'll be willin' to put out in exchange for keepin' her alive." 

Daryl glared at Merle but I stepped out of the trailer before he could respond, eyeing Merle warily, and both men turned to look at me. "Yeah that's not going to happen" I said firmly. I was not going to let this asshole intimidate me. I dealt with men like him every day at work and wasn't going to be cowed despite my unfortunate dependence on his brother. 

Daryl was still scowling and Merle had a big grin on his face. "Well lookie loo! Seems like ya managed to sweet talk your way into my brother's protection darlin'. Luckily yer gonna get ol' Merle here to take care of ya right, since Darylina don't seem to know how. I'm guessin' yer a little more uptight than my usual type, but I'll loosen ya up." 

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Shut the fuck up, Merle. She's got kids, I ain't gonna leave her here to get 'erself killed and you ain't gonna touch 'er." Merle tilted his head and looked me up and down, "Whatever ya say Daryl; you always were the sweet one. We gonna go or what?" He swung his leg over his motorcycle and started the engine. 

Daryl grabbed the last bag from me and got in the truck while I hopped in the passenger's seat. By the time we pulled out, a few more of the dead were stumbling down from the highway toward the little neighborhood and I watched them grow smaller in the rearview mirror as we drove away. 


	5. Camp

After half a day with the Dixon brothers I had concluded that Merle was essentially the opposite of Daryl. Every time we stopped he talked incessantly, mostly a long string of inappropriate comments about me or insults for Daryl. I was pretty sure he was high, and he seemed to be enjoying every minute of our collective discomfort with his teasing. "Who ya gonna cuddle up with at night sweetheart? Daryl been givin' it to ya good, or do you need Merle to show you how it's done?" "That's a nice tattoo ya got - ya know Daryl's pretty good with a needle and ink himself, he'd prob'ly tattoo whatever ya want if ya flash him those tits." 

For his part, Daryl did a good job ignoring his brother and keeping us on the road as much as possible. We explored several wooded areas and made a couple of stops to pee or to look around for a good camping spot but had gone quite a ways before Daryl pulled off onto a dirt road and stopped the truck to talk to his brother. "Been huntin' out here before and it's usually pretty good. Think there's a couple a campsites about a mile down, 'tween here and the highway. Not too close though." Merle didn't seem to care, just nodded and grinned at me through the window, so we pressed on down the bumpy road. 

We pulled over when we were close to where Daryl thought the campsites were, and he turned off the truck. "Gonna check it out - wait here. Ya see anythin', just lock the doors and get to the floor." I wasn't used to being sidelined in any decisions, or ordered around, but I realized I needed to keep a low profile around Merle so I bit my tongue and just nodded. 

Daryl and Merle walked into the woods, Daryl with his bow and Merle with a gun tucked into his waistband. The woods were quiet and cool compared to the heat we'd come from and I rolled down my window and breathed in the fresh air. After a while I started watching the clock, growing more nervous as the minutes ticked by. It had been over an hour since they left and I hoped that meant they'd been satisfied with the situation and decided to try some hunting, not that they'd run into trouble. 

Another 10 minutes went by before I heard voices, and Merle and Daryl walked out of the woods with another man. He was about the same height as Daryl, broad chested in a fitted shirt, and had the look of someone who expects to be in charge. I got out of the truck and he walked over and stuck his hand out. "I'm Shane, and we've got a group of folks at the campsites. You're welcome to join us - there's safety in numbers and we've got other women and children we're protecting." 

I wasn't a fan of the implication that all women were as helpless as children and big strong men were needed to take charge, but being around families sounded nice, and might provide a buffer between me and Merle. "It's nice to meet you Shane" I said, shaking his hand firmly. "There's no shortage of alpha males around, but maybe there's strength in numbers. Daryl?" I met his eyes and he nodded, "Yeah, we checked it out. Seems okay. Can stay for the night, anyway." 

I looked back at Shane. "Sounds like it's a plan." He smiled, a little tightly, and patted my arm, "you let me know if these two are giving you any trouble" he said in a low voice. I stiffened and pulled back. "They aren't. I'm sure they'll help your group like they've helped me." 

He raised his eyebrows but let it go, walking back into the woods. Daryl started up the truck and drove a little further down the road before turning onto a faint path that led up the hill a bit until we finally pulled into a clearing with several campsites. An RV was parked in one, and tents were scattered around a couple of campfire rings. Cars were parked off to the side and Daryl pulled the truck up to a vacant site and hopped out. I could see a couple of kids playing next to one of the cars, and a woman with short grey hair cooking something over a fire. 

We unloaded our gear and I set up my tent while Merle and Daryl shifted things around in the bed of the truck, where they planned to sleep. I considered offering to let Daryl sleep in the tent with me, but decided against it. He would feel awkward, Merle would make a big deal over it, and I knew he wouldn't accept anyway. I rolled out my sleeping bag and found my headlamp and other nighttime essentials so I wouldn't be trying to get ready for bed in the dark. 

It was dusk before we were done unpacking, and Daryl had built a fire in the ring when I emerged from my tent. He'd opened a bag of sliced bread and some cans of baked beans and thrown the latter in a pot over the fire. He looked up at me as I approached and muttered, "Might want to grab some a this 'fore Merle gets back and eats it all." 

I dished myself up a serving, grabbed a couple pieces of bread, and sat down on a log to eat. The day had been a whirlwind and I hadn't yet adjusted to the idea of being stranded in the middle of Georgia, cut off from everything I knew and loved, with two rednecks as my closest allies. A wave of exhaustion washed over me and I finished my dinner and told Daryl I was heading in. He didn't respond, shoveling food into his mouth, so I unzipped my tent and flopped down on my sleeping bag. 

I could hear folks talking outside, and Merle rambling on, getting the occasional muttered responses from Daryl. The kids' laughter reminded me of everything I was missing at home and I cried into my pillow until I finally fell asleep. 


	6. Group

I spent the next day trying not to think about my family, and focus on getting acclimated to the new group. Daryl and Merle seemed to have agreed to stay, though Daryl was becoming more and more withdrawn and I sensed something was wrong. I'd feel him looking at me sometimes but when I turned my head he'd turn around and walk the other way and I'd only managed to say a few words to him all day. I was frustrated that they hadn't asked my opinion but didn't see the point in making a stink about a decision I agreed with. 

Shane Walsh turned out to be a cop, which explained the attitude. I'm not anti-cop, exactly, but when your job is to defend folks who've run up against the law you see the problems in the criminal justice system pretty clearly, and I'd been working to change that in my little town before the fall. Cops are just flawed people like the rest of us, but they've got a level of power that can easily become a problem. Too much of an ego and they're guaranteed to be an asshole at least some of the time. Shane fit this description to a T, though he seemed to be doing his best to be friendly to everyone and I figured I could deal with him as long as it stayed that way. 

Lori Grimes and her son Carl were with Shane, and apparently, Shane had been Lori's husband's partner on the force. He had been in a coma in the hospital when everything went down and hadn't made it, but Shane had gotten Lori and Carl out. 

The Morales family had several kids, and there was a single guy named Jim who had lost his whole family. I found I could hardly look at him and had to push away thoughts of losing my own kids and husband. Another single guy named T-Dog was friendly and kept the kids laughing. Jacqui was alone as well, but had gotten close to a few others in the group and didn't talk much about her life before all this happened.

Carol, Ed, and Sophia kept to themselves a bit, though Carol seemed friendly enough. Her husband was clearly an asshole and it didn't take much to figure out he hit her. I hoped Shane would step in if it happened here, and I silently promised to keep a close eye on Sophia and try to figure out if she was being hurt. 

The RV housed Dale, an older guy, Glenn, who was young and talkative, and sisters Andrea and Amy. Andrea was a civil rights lawyer and we chatted a bit about our practices. She seemed to have a bit of a chip on her shoulder, but I was chafing under the blatant gender roles that Shane seemed to have imposed on the group as well, so I couldn't blame her much. 

Amy was quite a bit younger, maybe 16 or 17, and very sweet. Andrea was protective of her and let us know that they'd made it out of their hometown after their parents were bitten, and then their car had broken down on the highway. Dale had taken them in to stay in his RV along with Glenn, who'd been in the same position. They'd joined up with the others in the group and found the campsites once they saw the military drop bombs on the city.

Dale was an absolute charmer; one of those older guys who manage to be friendly and fatherly without being creepy. He shared my love of reading and learning and we chatted for quite a while during the afternoon. 

Andrea, Amy, and I walked down to the lake during the hottest part of the day and cooled off with our feet in the water. They explained how bad it was in all the towns they'd seen, and I realized I'd gotten lucky being stuck in such a remote place with Daryl while the rest of the state fell under the devastating outbreak. The news hadn't shown how bad it was getting, as everyone was reporting from outside the Georgia containment zone, and I suspected the government was trying to keep folks from panicking in states that didn't yet have any cases. I prayed fervently that my family was still safe and would find a way to come through this. 

Lori marched down to the lake around lunchtime and informed us that she and Carol had put together some food but she "wouldn't mind a little help from the other women in the group once in a while." Andrea rolled her eyes but Amy apologized and I stayed quiet. 

Back at the campsites, I let Lori know that I was perfectly able to fix myself food, and if she wanted help with anything she just had to ask. She crossed her arms and looked at me warily. "You'll excuse me for being frustrated, but I've found that the moms around here tend to do all the work and it's getting old." 

I raised my eyebrows. "I'm a mom too, though my kids are a couple of thousand miles away, and I understand why you'd be frustrated. But maybe we should divide up the chores between everyone, not just the women. That would take the burden off, right?"

She shook her head. "The men are in charge of protection and getting food from the city when we get low. They don't need any more stress. I'm sure you're well-intentioned but I'd appreciate it if you didn't make this into some feminist agenda." I didn't bother arguing any further right then, but I wasn't going to just let it go forever.

Daryl came back to camp in time for dinner, bringing a bunch of rabbits with him. I persuaded him to show me how to dress them since Merle was clearly not going to help. I'd helped my dad butcher chickens when I was younger, but I'd never done more than that. Daryl was incredibly skilled and quick but didn't seem to mind me taking my time mimicking his process. 

When we were finished he left one on the table and took the rest to the bigger group, which had gathered close to the central fire pit. Everyone was thrilled with the fresh meat, and I could see Shane mentally patting himself on the back for allowing us to join the group. 

I got out a pot and browned the pieces of meat in it before adding some canned tomatoes and veggies and covering it to let it cook over the fire. Daryl made his way back after shrugging off compliments and grabbed a beer from the cooler. Merle ran his mouth, as usual, and I attempted to ignore him and keep an eye on the food. Daryl sat near me and drank his beer in silence, a definite tension around his shoulders. I leaned over and spoke quietly, "Is something wrong? I mean, besides the world falling apart?" He shook his head, "Nah, Merle's just a dumbass" but I could tell that wasn't the whole story. 

After he'd scarfed down a plate of food, Merle took some kind of pill and finally got quiet. I wasn't sure if he was passed out or just incredibly high and I didn't really care, the relief from his constant chatter was blissful. I settled back in my camping chair and murmured "finally", leaning my head back. 

I turned to the side and found Daryl watching me, amused at my obvious delight with Merle's current state, and I let out a quiet laugh. It was the first time I'd laughed in days, the first time I'd been relaxed enough to let my guard down, and even Daryl smiled and leaned back against the truck. It was the first real smile I'd seen from him and I stared a little too long before turning back to the fire. 


	7. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about politics: Yes, Ana is very liberal but NO, the story will not be about that. I find the current political climate of divisiveness fascinating, and I kept thinking about how it could affect group dynamics if the outbreak started after 2020. So I'm exploring that, but this isn't a preachy liberal fic, I promise :) Ana has to learn to change, along with everyone else, and put that kind of stuff behind them.

By the time we'd been at the camp for a week, I'd gotten a better sense of the dynamics of the group. Most of them were locals, except for Glenn, who was from Michigan but had been living in Atlanta for the past couple of years. Most were from the suburbs and had a fairly conservative background and that made me an outsider. One of the first nights we were there, Dale dragged us over to the main campfire and began asking questions about where I was from. 

"Portland!" Lori exclaimed. "Goodness, isn't it scary raising kids around all that?" 

I was bewildered. "Around what?" I asked. Several people exchanged glances and eventually, Shane spoke up. 

"You know, legalized hard drugs, rioting, Antifa . . ." he explained with a grimace.

"Ah. Yeah, that's not really what it sounds like on Fox News," I said with a smile. "I actually worked on getting that drug legislation passed, and it's allowing a lot of people to get help with their addiction, and costing taxpayers a whole lot less than keeping them in prison. And Portland is great and as safe as any other city. Quite frankly, I felt much safer there than here, pre-outbreak. Antifa just gets blamed for the actions of opportunistic anarchists who show up to peaceful protests. Of course, peaceful _protesters_ in Portland are being beaten or tear-gassed by the police frequently, but that doesn't get covered on right-wing news stations." I gave Shane a tight smile. "In any case, I don't live in Portland proper. I live in a small town about an hour away, in wine country." 

Silence followed my little speech and as I looked around the circle I realized that almost everyone was either skeptical of my assessment, or shocked at my words. Shane, in particular, looked furious and about to launch into an argument, when Merle spoke up from just outside the group, where he'd been lurking. "Betcha ain't got chupacabra in Portland, eh? Daryl ever tell you about the time he saw one while hunting?" 

All attention focused on Daryl, who rolled his eyes but shrugged. "Ya, I saw one out in the woods, drinkin' the blood of a deer I'd just shot. Tried to shoot it but the bolt jus' bounced off it." The group was silent for a moment, and then Glenn burst into giggles, which sent everyone else off. Daryl must have told this story before and was clearly used to this kind of response because it didn't seem to phase him, and Merle joined in the laughter. 

Dale looked at me across the fire, the only one not laughing. "You believe this stuff?" 

I shrugged. "I come from the land of Bigfoot, remember? And there are dead people walking around out there, so vampire dogs don't seem like that much of a stretch." Daryl glanced at me and I smiled, hoping he'd see me as an ally. I could tell he was pulling away from the group, and from me as a result, and I didn't know why. I was sure it had to do with Merle, but he clearly didn't love being around his brother so it wasn't some kind of wish they could be on their own. Daryl wouldn't open up to me if I asked him directly, so I needed to build up some trust and work toward the conversation. 

____________

Nothing could have prepared me for the events following the larger group's run to the city. I wasn't dumb enough to try and tag along, despite Andrea's encouragement. I didn't think she should have gone either but she clearly had something to prove and didn't care that she hadn't ever killed one of the 'walkers' as Glenn had started calling them. We'd been with the group for two weeks and her constant obsession with her gun was driving me crazy. I was pretty sure she'd never even shot it, but she seemed to think just holding it made her a force to be reckoned with. My dad had taken me shooting a couple of times when I was a teenager and I hadn't liked it, but it had helped me appreciate the need to be trained before using one.

Shane hadn't offered to go, which was irritating the hell out of me since he was supposed to be the leader, and the day before, when Ed started pushing Carol around, he'd refused to step in. I finally stepped between Carol and Ed, which just resulted in being knocked on my ass and having Carol pissed off at me for interfering. I had dealt with battered women before, and I knew it was a complicated issue, but I didn't really have the mental bandwidth to deal with her dysfunction in the middle of this apocalypse and I was growing more and more worried that she wasn't protecting Sophia. Carol could read my unspoken accusations and started ignoring me entirely. 

Lori didn't seem to like me much either. I'd tried to talk to her a few days ago about assigning chores to all the camp members, regardless of gender, and she'd muttered something about raging feminists and walked away. As Shane's female counterpart she seemed to think she was in charge of the women and children, and Carol went along with whatever Lori asked. The real problem between Lori and I, however, was that I had wandered into the woods to find some edible plants and mushrooms a couple of days before and saw her and Shane pulling their clothes back into place after an obvious hookup. They saw me too, and Shane asked me to "be discreet" before walking back to camp, while Lori just avoided my eyes. It had been tense since then, and with half the group gone, it got more awkward. 

Merle had continued to try and push my buttons over the past couple of weeks, even if he had defused the situation around the campfire on my behalf. He constantly called me sexual pet names, which I just ignored, and eventually grabbed my ass when I walked by him one night by the fire. I whirled around and shoved him back, hard enough that his chair tipped over, but he just laughed, high as a kite. 

"Don't. Touch. Me." I gritted out, storming over to my chair next to Daryl. Merle righted himself and grinned at me, "Well if y'ain't gonna let me feel ya up, at least sit on Daryl's lap so y'can feel the hard-on he has for ya." I just shook my head, exasperated. "I don't know how you've dealt with him your whole life" I muttered to Daryl, who was glaring at his brother across the fire. 

Merle had also regularly made racist and homophobic jokes, the latter often aimed at Daryl, and those I couldn't let go quite as easily. I had a mixed-race family, queer sister, and transgender niece, not to mention dozens of friends who were in vulnerable populations and I lit into Merle the first few times I heard him insult them. He just seemed to be entertained by my outrage, and eventually, Daryl told me to "just ignore him for fuck's sake" and I reluctantly took his advice. I didn't stop wearing my Biden-Harris shirt to bed, but I didn't flaunt it either, for the sake of peace. It was odd to be so out of place based on my politics, and I realized that many of the shirts I'd brought for the herbalism retreat had things like "equality, equality, equality" in rainbow lettering, or "white silence is violence". I wore them anyway and got a few raised eyebrows but I saved the purely political one for when I was away from most of the group. 

That morning, Daryl had gone hunting, as usual, and I'd actually asked to go with him just to get away from the tension with Lori and Carol, and maybe get him to open up about whatever was eating at him. He'd barely glanced my way and muttered, "Nah, jus' slow me down and scare away all the food. 'Sides, I'm plannin' on bein gone overnight" before taking off. I ran after him and told him I didn't think that was wise, with dead things roaming the woods, but he said something about tying himself into a tree to sleep and brushed me off. 

Merle had jumped in with the group headed to Atlanta at the last minute, and I ended up spending most of my afternoon talking to Dale as he kept watch on the roof of the RV. It was late afternoon by the time we heard the siren from Glenn's car and the whole reunion between the Grimes family played out like the happy ending from a movie. 

I watched Shane and Lori afterward, avoiding each other's eyes, and wondered how this was going to affect the group's dynamics. Lori's husband seemed to have been Shane's superior officer as well as his close friend, and I didn't think Shane was going to easily share any kind of authority with this group. He'd basically moved into Rick's spot in every way, and was now going to be thrown out on his ass if the look on Lori's face was anything to go on. 

It took a bit before we heard the story of Merle being left on the roof and I was horrified. I understood better than anyone how awful Merle could be, but he wasn't usually violent and I wondered what he'd taken that day to push him from inflammatory comments to attacking folks. I was more sensitive than a lot of the group to his constant racism, sexism, and homophobia, but I thought there must have been something more to him, underneath all the bluster, or Daryl wouldn't have put up with him, and even there wasn't, I didn't think I could leave him to die on a roof. 

Even without walkers getting in, he was going to be in the blazing hot sun without any water or shade until someone showed up to let him out. I understood that the group had made a split-second decision that they all felt bad about, but all I could think of was how Daryl would feel when he found out his brother had been left. I knew he thought of himself as an outsider already, he'd gotten more and more short-tempered the longer we spent with the group and with Merle, and I thought this might push him over the edge. Would he leave? Would I go with him? Would he let me? I slept fitfully that night, thinking of Merle on the roof and Daryl going to get him and never coming back. 


	8. Attack

I sat in the tent and watched an ant scurry across the book laying in my lap. I had been staring at the same page for an hour, my thoughts circling around Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog's rescue mission. Daryl had been so angry I hadn't been able to really talk to him before he left, but I caught his arm as he walked by me to the truck and told him to be safe. He didn't meet my eyes but nodded and pulled his arm free. 

Shane had the nerve to suggest I should be the one to break the news to Daryl since we were "so close", but Rick had quickly shot that down and taken the job on himself. Rick had a lot of the same qualities as Shane but seemed more thoughtful and less egotistical. I hoped that meant he was less inclined to abuse his power but at the very least it meant he wasn't afraid to put himself at risk in order to help someone else and I appreciated that.

I knew from personal experience that Daryl was the same way, though I doubted anyone else had figured it out yet. To the rest of the group, Daryl was the redneck who stayed away from everyone except his obnoxious brother, and occasionally me, and spent all day hunting. They were happy to benefit from his skills but hadn't gotten to know him at all. I would hesitate to say we were friends, but I knew enough to appreciate his better qualities.

The hours crawled by as we went about the now-familiar routines of laundry, cooking, and foraging, broken up by Shane finally losing it on Ed and Jim having a long-overdue mental breakdown that I assumed was related to the loss of his family. I couldn't keep my mind on anything other than what was happening in Atlanta, as the sun crawled closer to the horizon and the shadows grew longer, sending up prayers for everyone, even Merle, to a God I wasn't sure existed. 

I joined the group for dinner and smiled at Dale across the fire as he talked about his watch. I was startled by the screams and growls along with the rest of the group and pulled out my knife (previously meant for things like harvesting mushrooms) as the walkers overtook the camp. I tried to find my way to Amy, who was screaming for Andrea, but Shane started firing the shotgun and I had to duck out of the way behind a car. I saw Carl with Lori, behind Shane, and Sophia and Carol clinging to them as well. The group began to move toward the RV, fending off walkers with Shane's gun, and Morales and Jim's bats. 

I couldn't get to the group from my position behind the car without going through the crowd of rotting bodies closing in on the RV and before I could come up with a plan, something snagged my hair from behind and I was jerked off my feet. I rolled over, out of the grasp of the walker who'd come up behind me, and scrambled backward, eventually getting enough space to get on my feet. My knife was out and I swung it towards the head but missed and it lunged for me, knocking me back to the ground. I grasped its shoulders, holding it out far enough that it's snapping teeth couldn't reach my neck but it was stronger than I expected and I couldn't let go in order to use my knife again. 

I heard more gunshots and realized the group must be back from Atlanta with all the guns. I knew they couldn't see me on the ground away from the RV, and screamed for help as loudly as I could, though there was no way they could hear me over the noise. A second later Daryl slid over the hood of the car and smashed the butt of a gun into the walker's head, knocking it off me before finishing it off with a bullet. He bent down and checked me over quickly, "Ya bit?" he yelled, running his hands over my arms. "No, no, I'm okay," I said shakily. He pulled back and reached out a hand to help me up, then jogged away, taking down several more walkers while I stumbled toward the rest of the group. 

The children were sobbing, bodies were everywhere, and most of the adults were holding onto each other in shock and disbelief. Our safe haven was now a graveyard and the reality of the apocalypse had come crashing around us in the worst way possible. I looked at the RV, and Andrea bent over a lifeless Amy and felt my knees give out. Amy had been a bright and cheerful soul, loved by everyone, but she had been Andrea's reason for going on and I cried for her loss as much as for Amy herself. 


	9. Aftermath

The next morning we were still cleaning up and digging graves, dealing with grief (Andrea) and anger (Daryl) and something more complicated (Carol) when Jacqui yanked up Jim's shirt and showed us the bite. I didn't blame Daryl for being upset, but Jim was clearly not a threat at the moment and Daryl's overreaction seemed to be a culmination of everything that had happened over the past 24 hours crashing down on him. 

When he stomped away toward our campsite, I followed him. "Daryl, can we talk for a minute?" He didn't respond, but he slowed down, and I caught up to him. "Thank you for last night. I didn't get a chance to say it with . . . everything . . . but thank you. I thought I wasn't going to make it." I put my hand on his shoulder blade and he shrugged it off and turned toward me, still angry. "Ya can't just wait to get yer ass saved Ana, ya hear? Learn to defend yourself for fucks sake! What the fuck were you doin' over there by yourself? Ya coulda died if I was two seconds too late!" 

I was taken aback slightly at his raised voice but stood my ground. "I wasn't waiting to 'get my ass saved' Daryl. I tried to use my knife but I missed and it grabbed me. You're right, I don't know how to defend myself, but I promise I wasn't just assuming you'd be there." His nostrils flared as he glared at me, and then relaxed slightly, glancing away. "I'll show you how ta kill 'em. These things ain't stayin' in the city no more." 

I nodded and shivered, despite the heat. "Yeah. It's just . . . going to shit even more, isn't it? I'm sorry about Merle, Daryl. It sounds like he got away though?" Daryl nodded, "Ain't nobody can kill Merle but Merle, like I told Rick. He'll be okay, but I can't say the same for any of these guys if they cross his path again." He raised his eyes to meet mine and rubbed the back of his neck. "Glad yer okay. Sorry fer yellin'," he mumbled and then walked away toward his truck. 

I found myself thankful my oldest kid had recently reached preteen years because I'd gotten used to mood swings. Daryl popped off at the drop of a hat, mostly when other people tried to manipulate him, but he'd swing just as quickly back to being a steady and quiet presence, doing what needed to be done to keep the group safe and never complaining about the work or slacking off. 

After burying our dead and sorting out our plans, we finally left for the CDC after quite a bit of discussion, where I ended up agreeing with Rick. I could envision brave scientists hunkered down in the CDC complex, still communicating with the outside, and I was desperate for news from the rest of the country. 

Dale had confided in me that he saw Shane aiming a gun toward Rick in the woods, and he was clearly worried about it. I wasn't sure Shane would go so far as to hurt someone intentionally, but his mental state was definitely slipping. I promised to let Dale know if I noticed anything that was off and climbed into the passenger's seat of Daryl's truck as we parted ways with the Morales family and headed toward Atlanta. 

Daryl had said before that we should stay away from the city, but he'd gone in to look for Merle and didn't argue with the CDC plan, so I figured the woods had become dangerous enough that the risk of venturing out was worth the possibility of salvation. 


	10. CDC

The city was a shock to my senses. The smell of burning bodies at the camp had been bad, but Atlanta was literally a graveyard of rotting corpses and I had to breathe slowly through my mouth to stop my stomach from retching. We wove our way through piles of bodies and left staggering walkers behind us, reaching futilely toward the vehicles. When we arrived at the CDC, it looked like the military had executed hundreds of people and left them in the street. I couldn't imagine what it was like to be there when everything fell apart and thanked whoever was listening once again that I'd broken down near Daryl's trailer. 

_________

Dr. Jenner didn't have any news for me about what was happening in the rest of the country. I peppered him with questions as he drew my blood, but he said he'd lost contact shortly after the electricity went out and he had to switch to a generator. Cell towers had run on generators for a while, but at some point, they'd gone too, as had internet providers. The last he'd heard, some folks in the midwest and north had decided the government was making the whole thing up as a way to get rid of conservatives in the south and were starting to riot. I hoped Oregon hadn't been affected too much by that but was reassured that he hadn't heard about the infection spreading rapidly outside the south. 

We made our way to the dining hall where we had the first big meal in ages, and I finally began to relax. The wine helped, and I realized I hadn't had a drink since I left Oregon. Daryl, nursing a bottle of Southern Comfort watched me savor the wine and nodded toward the bottle. "That fancy enough for ya Princess?" 

Glenn, who had already downed several glasses, looked curiously at us. "She owns a winery," Daryl told him, with a roll of his eyes, more talkative than I'd ever seen him. "This one rolls up to my shitty trailer in a busted Mercedes, wearin' heels and a fancy suit, and then spends the next four fuckin' days talkin' nonstop to her family in their big ass fancy house in wine country. She's prob’ly too good for this shit but she's got manners so she ain't gonna say anything, ain't that right?" 

I couldn't tell if Daryl was teasing me in a good-natured way, or if it was supposed to be cutting, and I wasn't sure he knew either. I swished the wine in my mouth as dramatically as possible before swallowing, holding his gaze. “Classic cabernet, lots of black fruit, fairly balanced tannins, but I do prefer a more delicate Oregon pinot noir,” I said in a mock-serious tone. Glenn giggled, drunk off his ass already. "Seriously? You own a winery and drive a Mercedes?" 

"No!" I said, "I mean, my husband's family owns a winery, which _he_ runs, not me, and that Mercedes was a rental. But I _was_ wearing a suit and heels at the time and it probably looked pretty ridiculous." 

I smiled at Daryl, thinking about what must have run through his head when I met him, and he gave me the closest he got to a grin and tipped the bottle back to his lips. "Yer ass ain't so fancy now Princess." I took a sip of my wine too. "Smaller though," I said with a smile. “This whole apocalypse thing beats a workout at the gym," which gave Glenn the giggles again. 

We were all at least a little tipsy by the time we stumbled back to our rooms, despite Dr. Jenner's grim story about his fellow doctors. After weeks of camping, the hot showers felt incredible. I washed what felt like layers of dirt off of me and dried my hair with a towel while looking in the mirror for the first time since we left the trailer. I wasn't kidding about the smaller ass - I'd definitely gotten into better shape over the past month of backpacking and survival. 

While eating very little and tromping around the woods all day did wonders for the physique, I couldn't say the same for my hair. I usually kept it shoulder length but I hadn't gotten it cut for a while before my trip and it was down well past my shoulders now, and ragged on the edges. The walker I'd tangled with had yanked at it hard enough to break off some strands, and I could see a few gray hairs peeking through the blonde when I looked closely. I felt like I'd lived an entire lifetime in the past three weeks; no wonder I was going gray. My eyes looked tired and my face was thinner and getting more tan than I'd ever been before from the constant sun. 

I took my time drying my hair and dressing in clean clothes, but eventually, I found myself with a slight buzz, sitting on the narrow couch with nothing to do. I felt completely safe for the first time in ages, and actually craving company, which wasn't normal for someone so introverted. I wandered the corridors and bumped into Daryl, who was opening the door to his room. "Hey there," I said as I leaned against the doorpost and focused on the top button of his shirt, which was at eye level. "Hey yerself," he replied, stepping around me to enter his room as I trailed behind him. 

"You know," I began somewhat defensively, "I'm not a snob." Daryl snorted. "Sure," he said, "yer poor folk just like me, that it? Ya drive a shitty pickup mosta the time?" 

"No," I replied evenly. "I'm not saying that but I grew up in a big family without much money and I'm down to earth, and while I've learned how to fit in with the whole winery crowd, I don’t particularly like most of them. I do court-appointed work, so I'm not making the big bucks, and I spend all my time with clients who are really struggling, so I'm not like some rich girl who doesn't understand what the world is like. That's all. I just . . . didn't know what you meant when you said that to Glenn." 

Daryl stepped closer and I had to raise my head to meet his eyes. "I didn' mean nothin', 'cept what I said. You were a fancy-ass princess and now you ain't. Ain't a bad thing. Jus' need to learn to use a damn knife and a gun to protect yerself, and then when all this is over you'll go back to yer fancy life again." 

But I had wrapped my arms around him tightly at the mention of this nightmare ending, and he tentatively brought his arms around me for a second and let me breathe him in. "I'm glad I found you, Daryl Dixon," I murmured into his shirt. He dropped his hands and stepped back, jerking his head toward the door. "Yer drunk. Get some sleep." 

I stepped into the hall but leaned back to poke my head in the door. "I'm not drunk, Daryl. And you're a good guy, whether you want to be or not." With that, I went back to my room to get my first night of restful sleep in a long time. 


	11. Sophia

I curled against the worn bench seat of Daryl's truck while he hunched over me and the ground shook with the blast of the CDC explosion. We raised our heads once we realized we were safe, and I stared at him, still in shock at Jacqui's choice and Jenner's revelations, and began to shake as the adrenaline of our escape wore off. Daryl started the truck and rolled forward to follow Rick's car but I couldn't stop shaking enough to fasten my seatbelt. In my peripheral vision, I could see him looking over at me as he drove and I tried unsuccessfully to breathe deeply and calm myself down. 

Daryl's rough "Hey," broke through the fog in my brain and I looked at him, dazed. "Yer okay," he said in his low, steady voice, taking his eyes briefly off the road to meet mine. "We gotta keep goin'. You good?" I nodded, his words calming me more than my breathing exercises. After a few minutes, I was able to buckle the seatbelt and lean my head against the window, watching the abandoned streets of Atlanta roll by. 

Jenner had told us that he'd been cut off from the outside when the military bombed Atlanta, but that while he thought the rest of the world would be more prepared for the infection, there was no way to stop it. The entire planet would eventually have to deal with it, and there was no way they were going to unlock the borders to the epicenter of the problem anytime soon. According to him, we would be trapped in Georgia for years, possibly forever, and he was certain that almost everyone in the state would die within just a few months. I couldn't accept that we would never get out, but even the thought of being away from my kids for years was enough that I understood Jacqui's choice. 

We hadn't been out of the city long before T-Dog's van ran out of gas and we had to consolidate vehicles, with Daryl leading the caravan on Merle's motorcycle. I ended up in the RV with Dale, Glenn, and T-Dog, a despondent Andrea and a brooding Shane who bonded over guns, and I missed the quiet of Daryl's truck almost immediately. I thought the plan to head to Fort Benning was stupid - there was no chance the military had stayed in Georgia when it was obvious Atlanta had fallen - but I knew Rick felt like he had to give Shane's idea a try and neither of them would be interested in my opinion. The highways were a maze of cars to weave through, and progress was slow.

The RV broke down again partway through the afternoon and we began scavenging in abandoned cars while Dale tried to fix it. I didn't have much patience for Lori's irrational objections to taking stuff from other people's cars and wandered away from her just before the herd came through. Shane shoved Glenn under a truck and pulled me with him under another one just in time. I couldn't see Daryl and I was terrified that he'd been caught off guard, but there weren't any screams or sounds of the walkers finding food and it seemed like we were going to make it without a problem until Sophia ran into the woods. 

_________

There was nothing quite as awful as watching Carol fall apart when Rick came back alone. Lori tried to console her while Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Shane went back into the woods to search, and Dale and I sat with T-Dog and treated his injuries as best we could. We were able to stop the bleeding but the cut looked dirty and we were worried about infection without proper supplies for cleaning it. 

Shane and Glenn came back to report that Daryl and Rick were tracking Sophia, and we began clearing out a path through the maze of cars. Andrea tried to get me on her side in an argument with Dale about her gun and got frustrated when I refused to engage. "You know, the rest of us don't have Daryl to protect us," she snapped at me. "Not sure what you're trading in exchange for his attention, but maybe you should start thinking about what happens when he gets tired of you." 

I stepped closer to her with my hands on my hips. "I'm just going to pretend you _didn't_ imply that I'm sleeping with Daryl so he'll look out for me. He's a good guy, and he's watching my back because he promised my husband and kids that he would - that's all. I get that you're going through something really tough right now, but you need to figure out _your_ shit, rather than lashing out at everyone else." 

I'm not a huge fan of confrontation, but I've learned not to back away from it either, especially when you're in close quarters. I just hoped Andrea had been intentionally trying to piss me off, and that the rest of the group hadn't drawn the same conclusion about Daryl. He could be a hothead but he hadn't done anything to make them think he'd take advantage of someone like that. 

I was getting more and more doubtful that the trip to Fort Benning was anything more than a suicide mission. It was clear that we weren't going to be rescued any time soon, and I thought we should start making plans for a future that involved more than just traveling from one place to another. I'm good at planning, and at keeping folks focused on goals, but I knew I'd need to get Rick on board before bringing it up with the group. In the meantime, thinking through possibilities provided me with a distraction from worrying over Sophia. 

I couldn't imagine what Carol was going through, but I was frustrated when she blamed Rick after he and Daryl came back empty-handed. I was sure that if my kid had run into the woods I'd have been hot on their heels rather than waiting for someone else to go after them. I understood that she'd been conditioned to be helpless and defer to any authoritative male figure, but I had less compassion when that helplessness put a child in danger. 

I caught up with Daryl wandering through the maze of cars and expressed as much to him, half expecting him to ignore me but too frustrated not to vent to at least one person. He looked at me, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a minute before responding. "Ya just ain't the same as her so ya can't understand. I heard you with yer husband and it's kinda obvious yer in charge." 

"What does that matter?" I asked, and he straightened up after rummaging through another backseat. "She don' have people listenin' to her and givin' her respect like that. Been 'round women like her my whole life. It ain't her fault, but she is gonna have to make some changes now that ever'thing's different. She's gotta be a different person if she's gonna survive." 

He paused for a minute and studied my face while I squirmed at the unspoken reprimand. "Maybe you can help her. Ya worked with people like her before, right?" 

I sighed, knowing he was right. "Sort of, but in a different capacity. I mean, helping someone navigate a legal situation after abuse is kind of a narrow area of expertise. And honestly, she doesn't really like me, along with a lot of folks around here. But yeah, I get it. I'll see if I can get a little closer to her, tone down my judgmental side, and maybe we can talk a little."

He nodded and went back to peering in car windows. "Need ta find somewhere to sleep and then we can head out in the mornin' to keep lookin. Ya got a place?" I shook my head and he nodded to a pickup with a camper shell. "That'd work for a night if ya want. Plenty a room, better'n bein' stuck in the RV." 

He was looking away, obviously uncertain about whether I'd prefer to be alone, and busied himself pulling stuff out of the bed of the truck to make space. "Yeah, that sounds good," I said. "I don't really want to sleep by myself in this graveyard, and the RV is starting to smell." 

_____________

I lay in the dark that night listening to Daryl's steady breathing, thinking about how he got where he was. He'd told me about getting lost in the woods as a kid and no one looking for him, and I knew his mom had died when he was young. Clearly, no one was looking out for him except maybe Merle, and I couldn't imagine he'd made much of a role model. 

I was pretty sure Daryl was around my age, maybe a little older, which meant he'd had at least 15 years of adulthood and in some ways, especially in this new reality, he had a lot of wisdom. Anything that involved survival, fixing things, tenacity, and hard work seemed to come to him naturally but with interpersonal relationships, he was more like a teenager. Try to manipulate him or exert authority and his temper boiled over immediately; try to talk about something difficult and he usually looked for a quick escape. But he'd had moments where he saw vulnerability in someone else and reached out of his comfort zone to help, like when he'd talked to my kids or defended Carol to me. 

I rolled on my side and looked at the outline of him in the dark, just visible in the moonlight. I knew enough about shared trauma to realize I might be connecting with him more deeply than I should, but this was the end of the world, and the old rules just didn't always apply. Everyone needs personal connections, especially in a crisis, and I wasn't going to push Daryl away, especially if I was going to be here for years.


	12. Farm

My mind raced as we approached the Greene farmhouse. Everything had fallen apart so quickly - Sophia's disappearance, T-Dog's infection, Carl getting shot. Daryl, Andrea and I had walked the woods the night before, a last-ditch effort before abandoning the highway, but there was no sign of Sophia. At least Andrea seemed to have a new appreciation for Daryl, and I hoped it would carry over to the rest of the group. 

She'd pulled me aside that morning and apologized for what she'd said about me and Daryl. "I was pissed and just trying to pick a fight - my head's been a mess since the CDC . . . well, since Amy really. I don't really think any of that about him, especially after our conversation last night. You're right, he really is a good guy and he obviously wants everyone to be safe. And I hope you can get back to your husband and kids." I gave her a hug and reassured her all was forgiven. No one was their best self under these circumstances, and the last thing we needed was to hold grudges.

Now we were navigating an entirely new situation, with Rick, Lori and Shane focused on Carl while the rest of us tried to settle into our new space with folks who clearly weren't thrilled to have us there. Daryl had stuck around long enough for Otis' funeral and then grabbed his bow and headed toward the woods. Rick stopped him briefly, but Daryl was already walking away when I finally caught up. 

"Hey," I gasped, out of breath from running. "Are you going out to look for Sophia?" At his nod, I asked, "Can I come? I can't just sit around here and wait while she's out there alone." He shrugged, "Guess if you don't slow me down and ya do what I say. You got a weapon?" I pulled out the buck knife Shane had handed me back at the RV, which was slightly bigger than the mushroom knife I’d had before, and he scoffed at it and walked back to his motorcycle. 

He grabbed a big hunting knife in a sheath out of the saddlebag and shoved it toward me. "Here. Ya need a real knife, not that piece a shit." I looked at the one he'd handed me and saw a "DD" engraved on the hilt, worn almost smooth from frequent use. "You sure? You won't need it?" He gestured to the knife he already had strapped to his belt and headed toward the woods without another word. 

We walked in silence for a long time, and I tried to keep my footsteps as quiet as Daryl, unsuccessfully. I watched the way he walked closely though, and got a little better as time went on. The woods were peaceful and cool, and it felt good to get away from the tension and drama that seemed to be a constant presence in our group. Occasionally Daryl would bend over and look at something I couldn't see and then head in a different direction. 

"What are you looking at?" I asked eventually. He motioned for me to come closer and I crouched down to look at the forest floor. "What do you see?" he asked. I strained my eyes for anything that might be a clue to what had been there recently but couldn't come up with anything. "Dirt and leaves, that's it." I started to stand up but Daryl's hand on my back stopped me. "Look closer, here." He pointed to where some leaves were partly buried in the soft earth. "Somethin' stepped on those leaves and pushed them down there, see? They ain't decomposin' yet, so they dropped not too long ago, and got pushed down by somethin' heavy, but not huge based on the amount of pressure it woulda took." 

Once he pointed it out I could see what he meant, but I didn't know how he'd noticed it just walking by. "You're amazing. I'm okay at finding edible or medicinal plants, but those are easy to spot, and often even colorful so it doesn't take that much skill. My husband's family are really into wild mushrooms though, and I swear he can spot a porcini growing along the side of the road while driving 60 miles an hour. He always says it's because he grew up doing it and learned when he was a lot closer to the ground." 

I looked over at Daryl, smiling at the memory, and saw the ghost of a smile around his mouth. "Yeah, that's when I learned. Just comes natural eventually, seein' all the signs." We continued following the nearly invisible markers until we found an abandoned cabin. Daryl went inside first and told me to wait outside. A few minutes later he appeared in the doorway and motioned for me to follow him. He opened the door to a cupboard where someone had stashed a pillow and blanket, and there was an open can of food in the trash can. I looked up at him and smiled, "She must have been here! This is the perfect spot for a person her size. Don't you think?" Daryl nodded, eyes on mine, and I could tell he was hopeful. We walked around the property calling for Sophia before spotting a flower blooming in the overgrown hedgerow. 

Daryl explained the story of the Cherokee Rose, and I reached out to touch the delicate petals. "You think this one grew for Carol?" I asked. He shrugged uncomfortably. "Yeah, maybe. She cares about that girl even if she didn't get 'er away from Ed, ya know?" I met his gaze and nodded, "Yeah, I do. I know I was harsh before, but I'm a nicer person than that, I promise. This whole thing just doesn't bring out the best in me, I guess. I feel like I'm having to learn how to live all over again." 

Daryl picked the flower from the hedge and gave me another almost-grin. "Yeah I guess wearin' high heels don't really prepare you for kickin' walker ass." "No kidding," I laughed. "They work pretty well for kicking a prosecutor's ass all over the courtroom but I think boots are a little better in this situation." 

We heard a low growl and a lone walker stumbled out of the trees into the clearing near the house. Daryl took aim with his crossbow, but shot it through the arm, pinning it to a tree. I gave him a confused glance while he fitted another arrow in the bow and shot it through the other arm. The walker struggled to get free, growling, and snapping its teeth at us. Daryl turned to me. "Get out yer knife. I said I'd teach ya how to use it, didn' I?" "Shit," I muttered under my breath, but Daryl was right. It was long past time for me to learn how to kill one of these things. 

"Okay, if this was loose it'd be staggerin' at ya with its arms out, so you need to know how to deal with those but fer now I just want ya to learn what it takes to stab it in the head and put it down, kay?" I nodded and walked up to the walker, which was reaching out as far as it could, impeded by the arrows in its arms. I could see that it was pulling hard enough that it would eventually tear its arms enough to slip through the arrows if I didn't kill it soon. 

I felt Daryl come up behind me, close enough to feel the warmth of his body. "I'm gonna show ya, that okay?" I nodded nervously, and his left hand came up to push down slightly on my hip, anchoring me in place. His right hand covered mine over the knife handle, and he pulled it back and showed me the angle to swing it. “Like that. Ready?" He stepped away and I swung the knife toward the ear of the walker, sinking it in to the hilt. It immediately fell silent and still, sagging off the tree. 

I yanked the knife free, which took a lot of force, and Daryl pulled out his arrows. He looked over at me with the ghost of a smile. "Try not to go in that deep, so you can get it out quicker, but not bad for a fancy-ass princess." I bumped him hard with my shoulder. "Shut up. For your information, I'm the lowest maintenance person I know. You should meet my sister - she'd be screaming at you to find her a blowdryer and a tanning bed." Daryl grinned, "Whatever ya say, Princess. All I know is ya ain't used to sleepin' on the floor or livin' with a bunch a Trumpers." 

"Well that's true", I admitted. "It's definitely been a culture shock, apocalypse aside. But . . . it's funny how that all really doesn't matter when it comes down to it. I mean, underlying values do, like racism or misogyny, but the rest of it just . . ." I shrugged, unable to find the right words. Daryl squinted at me. "Ya like the women doin' all the laundry and cookin' then?" 

I groaned. "God, seriously. What the fuck is with that? At least _you_ don't ask people to wash your clothes, and you seem to know how to make your own food. I mean I honestly don't mind doing the work itself, whatever I can do to pitch in is fine, but I really hate this whole 'men stay on watch, women do housework' assumption that guides the division of labor. And Shane is the absolute worst about it. He walked up to the group of women at camp one day with a pair of pants that had a tear and just sort of held them out helplessly to all of us and asked if we could fix them. Like it takes a vagina to use a sewing needle." 

Daryl snorted in an almost-laugh. "Yeah, that guy's a dick. And kinda fucked in the head right now, I think. Somethin' weird happened with Otis." I sobered and stopped walking. "What do you mean?"

"I don' know exactly," Daryl replied, "he was jus' weird about it. And why'd he shave his head? Somethin's wrong. Think ya should be careful around him." 

He was avoiding my gaze, looking for tracks again, and I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Okay. If you think there's something wrong I'll be careful. I can't stand him anyway. And the whole thing with Lori is just a mess. Do you think Rick knows?" 

"If he don't, it's because he don't wanna," Daryl responded. "Don't take a genius to figure it out, ya know?" 

The light was beginning to go, so we headed back toward the farm. We were just emerging from the woods when a walker stumbled toward us. Daryl looked at me and nodded, and I took out my knife and approached. This time the walker was moving and had its arms outstretched and I couldn't figure out how to get close to its head. It was on me before I could prepare and I grabbed its arms with both hands, holding it off of me. I tried to shift my left arm to its chest so that I could use my knife with the other hand, but it stumbled on a rock and toppled forward, all its weight knocking me to the ground. 

It fell still before we even landed, an arrow in its head, and Daryl yanked it off me quickly. "You okay?" he asked. I nodded but winced as I tried to get up. "Twisted my ankle or something when it fell on me." Daryl prodded my right ankle gently and I grimaced. "Yeah, there. I can move my toes so it isn't broken, but it hurts a lot. Sprained it or tore something." He helped me up and braced me as I limped toward the farmhouse. 

Herschel took a look at my ankle and proclaimed it sprained, but not too badly. I needed to stay off of it as much as possible for a day or two and I'd be fine. As I came out of the farmhouse I saw Maggie on the porch and she gave me a stiff smile. We'd been briefly introduced, and I’d noticed she'd seemed warmer toward Glenn than the rest of us. "Thanks so much for all your hospitality," I said. "I know we're kind of a lot to deal with, but it's really good to see there are good people out there still." Her face softened slightly and she nodded. "I hope you find that little girl," she said quietly.

"If anyone can," I replied, "it's Daryl." Maggie tilted her head and looked at me in the glow from the porch light and then gave a pointed glance at my left hand. "He your husband?" I flushed slightly. "No. It's not like that. He promised to get me home to my family as soon as it was possible. I didn't even know him until all this started but he's a good guy. Rough around the edges, obviously, but not so bad when you get to know him." Maggie just nodded slightly, face unreadable in the dim light, and I limped to the spot we’d set up camp. 

Daryl was sitting on the grass outside his tent, which was next to mine. He picked up a bowl from the ground and held it out. "Guess we missed dinner but I grabbed some leftovers. How's the ankle?" I flopped down next to him. "Thanks. It'll be okay, just have to stay off of it tomorrow. I'm starved." We scarfed down our food in silence, and I laid back after I'd finished and looked at the stars. 

"It's amazing the things you don't notice most of the time when things are normal,” I said. “I honestly never looked at the stars until I went on that backpacking trip. You can't see them much anyway in a town, but I wish I had taken my kids out stargazing or something because they're really incredible, aren't they?" I didn't expect Daryl to answer, but he laid back next to me and looked up, which was good enough. After a few minutes, I turned my head to look at his profile. "Do you think we'll actually get out of this someday? Honestly?"

"You think I can't keep my promise?" Daryl bristled, his shoulders tensing though he kept looking at the stars. I leaned up on my elbow and looked down at him. "No, that's not it at all. I just mean do you think things will ever actually get fixed, or are we just going to have to learn to live like this?" He relaxed slightly and met my eyes. "Dunno. Don' see why it matters. Don' change what we gotta do right now." 

I laid back down and laced my fingers behind my head. "But it does matter. I mean, I've been thinking about this whole Fort Benning thing and I think it's crap. If the military had a base, we'd have seen evidence in Atlanta or on the highway. We'd see helicopters and planes or something. And if there's no Fort Benning, we can't just wait for the cold weather to come and hope that something comes along and saves us. I think we should be looking for a place that we can stay and actually make a sort of life for ourselves. Something with walls, or where we can build walls. Maybe a farm like this, with animals and crops, or at least space for them. We can't count on finding food for everyone just by scavenging forever but if we could get some animals and start raising our own food, we'd be okay in the spring." 

I stopped, realizing I was rambling, and cautiously slid my eyes over to Daryl. He had his head turned toward me and was regarding me with a thoughtful expression. We laid like that for what felt like a long time before he rubbed his hands over his face and got to his feet. "Gonna get some sleep," he muttered, and unzipped his tent, so I followed suit. It took me a long time to drift off, unable to get the look in his eyes out of my thoughts. 


	13. Shot

I sat on the roof of the RV with Andrea, bored to tears and wondering why I hadn't thought to bring a book. I'd spent the morning helping with chores in the house, unable to go look for Sophia because of my ankle. Everyone but Daryl had returned from the search, and I was worried he'd been hurt. Maggie had been pissed when she realized he'd taken a horse without asking and said it was a nervous one that was likely to bolt if it got spooked. Maggie had warmed up to me a little, but she was still very wary of the group as a whole.

Andrea jumped to her feet and pointed at the tree line. "Walker!" she yelled. Shane and Rick ran toward it, and Andrea sighted the rifle. "Andrea, stop!” I yelled. “You'll shoot Rick or Shane! You don't know what you're doing yet!" She ignored me, dropping down to take aim. "Andrea! Fuck!" I scrambled down the ladder of the RV just as I heard the shot ring out, and Rick yell in horror, and I just knew it was Daryl. I could see Rick and Shane picking him up and pulling him toward the house, Glenn and T-Dog right behind them. 

I ran toward the porch, yelling for Herschel, who took one look at Daryl and prepared his surgery room. Once Daryl was behind closed doors I sank down on the steps of the house and buried my face in my hands. I was pretty sure he wasn't dead, but he'd obviously been hurt even before the bullet grazed his head, and while Herschel seemed competent, his guest room wasn't exactly a first-rate medical facility. 

I lifted my head to find Andrea hesitantly approaching the house. "Any news?" A wave of anger rush over me and I got to my feet. "Are you fucking kidding me? Get the fuck away from here Andrea! You acted like an idiot - _again_ \- and now Daryl is in there having surgery. I TOLD you not to take that shot! You could have killed him!" I rarely yelled, but I was terrified for Daryl and beyond calm discussion. Andrea had backed up slightly as I yelled at her, but she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I was just doing my part to protect the group. He looked like a walker!" 

Her defiance was the last straw and I completely lost it. All I could think about was how Daryl had put more effort into looking for Sophia and providing for the group than anyone else, and how no one seemed to appreciate it except maybe Carol. My clenched fist connected with her face and she stumbled back and lost her balance, landing on her ass in the dirt.

I shook out my stinging hand and strode back to my tent to get away from the stunned faces of Glenn, Carol, and Lori who had watched it all go down. Dale was hurrying toward Andrea to help her up and I was sure he'd piss me off even more if I heard him placate her. I’d never hit anyone like that, at least not since I was old enough to know better, and I felt like I was losing it just a little.

Lori and Carol had cooked dinner in the house for everyone that night, so we all sat around for an awkward dinner. I saw Carol take Daryl a tray of food, and waited until she'd left before going into his room. Herschel had promised he'd be fine ("tough enough to survive almost anything, that one") but I needed to see for myself. He was sitting up and eating and looked up at me without pausing. 

I sat on the side of the bed while he finished and took his plate from him when he was done. "Daryl, I'm so sorry you got hurt," I started, trying to keep my voice steady. "I tried to stop Andrea from shooting but she didn't listen. If you'd died I just don't know what . . . " I trailed off and bit my lip, willing the tears in my eyes not to fall. 

Daryl shifted on the pillows uncomfortably. "Not yer fault. An' she was just tryin' to protect the camp. Stupid, but I guess she won't do it again. Just pissed I can't go out tomorrow and search more where I found the doll." Rick had told us about Daryl's find, and I nodded. "I'll go out and look tomorrow, and I'm sure a bunch of others will too. It's not all on you, you know."

Daryl rubbed at his bandaged head and laid back further. "Still. I'll be fine in a day, and I can get back out there." He rolled over and I stood to leave. The bedside lamp threw the scars on his back into sharp relief, but I didn't let my eyes linger. He wouldn't appreciate any comments or questions about something so personal. 

Dale cornered me as I came out of the house and asked me to go for a walk. "I know you're upset about Daryl, and I get that he's special to you. But Andrea feels terrible, and you know it was an accident. You need to patch things up with her." I shook my head and faced him. 

"Dale, it's not just the whole thing with Andrea. And it's not that Daryl is special to me; we're barely friends. It's just that no one seems to see how hard he's working to find Sophia, or how much work he did to feed the group back at camp. He contributes more than anyone, but you all write him off as a hothead redneck who's going to take off at any moment. That hurts him, whether he shows it or not. I don’t know him very well, but he took me in when he didn’t have to, and he even promised my kids he’d keep me safe. He’s a good guy." 

I knew my remarks had hit home by the guilt on Dale's face. He sighed. "You're right. You're absolutely right. That is how we've seen Daryl. I'll be honest though, I've been impressed by him since we left the CDC. There's a lot more to him than meets the eye and as long as he keeps that temper under control he's an incredible asset to the group. I'll try harder to get to know him, okay?" 

I nodded and rubbed my forehead tiredly. "And I'll talk to Andrea. I know I shouldn't have hit her, regardless of what she did." Dale smiled. "Yeah, but it _was_ a pretty impressive shot. Knocked her right on her ass." I grinned and rubbed my sore hand. "Hurts like a bitch though. I don't think I'm going to get into MMA any time soon." 


	14. Alone

The next morning Daryl moved back to his tent, and I went to join the group gathered around Rick and Shane, ready to get started searching. I couldn't believe my ears when I realized they were headed to the gun range rather than back out to look for Sophia. It appeared that they intended to leave the responsibility of finding her to Daryl, and if he wasn't able to go, they were all going to take a day off. I said as much, but Shane insisted that we needed to make time to teach the group how to defend themselves and Rick didn't argue.

I had no interest in shooting, and figured I'd go find the spot where Daryl found Sophia's doll. I wasn't thrilled at the idea of going by myself, but we had only seen a couple of walkers when we were out before, and I could have gotten away from them if Daryl hadn't wanted me to practice killing them. I grabbed a map, water bottle, and granola bar from my tent, and peeked my head into Daryl's to get better directions on where he found the doll. He showed me on my map but pulled it back when I tried to take it from him, eyes lingering on my bruised knuckles. 

"Andrea came to see me this mornin'. Said she was sorry. She got a black eye somehow." I busied myself putting my food and water in my backpack. "Oh? Glad she apologized." I willed my blush to cool before looking up at Daryl again, but he didn't say anything more, and handed me back the map. "Be careful. Make sure you all know the plan before you head off." I didn't tell him it was just me, and I hoped I'd be back before he found out. 

The woods were as peaceful as ever, and I found my thoughts wandering to the possibility of just living out there. If I ever got back home, I didn't know if I could go back to living in town around lots of people. I was naturally an introvert and needed a lot of down time between social events. This whole experience was like a never-ending social event, with bonus violence and trauma and I was going to need a lifetime to recover from it. 

I found my way to the creek using my map and the compass and was more than a little proud of myself for learning how to navigate the woods. I looked for any signs of Sophia and found the spot where Daryl had slid down the steep ridge. He must have found the doll nearby, but I didn't see anything else. I was sure Daryl would have found something to track if he was there, but I just didn't have his eyes. 

I was bent over looking at the soft dirt next to the creek, trying to decide if it had been disturbed recently, when I heard the rasping of a walker behind me, and found myself jerked off balance by my hair yet again as I spun around. A loose jaw full of rotting teeth hovered just above my head as I lay on my back and I pushed at its neck to keep it from getting close enough to bite me. I hardly had time to think before swinging my knife toward its head, sinking it deep into the skull. The walker collapsed on top of me, oozing thick sticky blood and gore onto my shirt and face. I shoved it off me and splashed water from the creek onto my face to wash it clean, hands shaking. 

I made my way back toward the farm, stopping periodically to get my bearings and call for Sophia. I felt remarkably calm, and a little proud that I'd dealt with a walker on my own, without a gun, and without falling apart. Daryl had said that Carol would need to change, but it was true for me too. I knew I could handle mental challenges, but my body was getting stronger and allowing me to deal with the physical ones as well, and I was learning to be emotionally tougher when necessary, which felt good. If I was going to survive and get home eventually, I couldn't start crying every time I had to take out a walker. 

I arrived back at the farm at the same time as Shane and Andrea, who had obviously hooked up somewhere. Glenn was nowhere to be found, and Dale was talking to Shane about something. I figured it was as good a time as any to smooth things over with Andrea; maybe she'd be in a better mood after a little sexual stress release. I found her in the RV and she turned as I entered, looking at me warily. 

"I shouldn't have hit you," I began, standing in the doorway. "I was pissed, I'm _still_ pissed, that you did something stupid and it got someone hurt, but I shouldn't have hit you. I'm sorry about that." Andrea nodded slowly. "Forgiven. And for the record, I apologized to Daryl and he doesn't seem too mad." "I know," I said. "Just don't do anything like that again and we'll be good." I smiled at Dale as I left, so he'd know I made good on my promise, and went to check on Daryl. 

He was still in his tent, reading a book, and resting. He greeted me with a soft "hey" as I came in and sat down next to his cot. "I'm sorry, I didn't find anything out there," I said. "I tried to look for all the signs you showed me, but I couldn't tell what was walkers and what might have been Sophia. I found the spot where I think you got the doll, and I walked all around but didn't come up with anything more." 

He raised himself up on his elbows and stared at the side of my head, tilting it slightly to get a better look. "What the fuck happened to your head?" he asked, and I raised a hand to feel what he was looking at. My scalp stung as I touched it and I came away with blood on my fingertips, realizing that the walker must have yanked some of my hair out by its roots when it pulled me down. 

"Oh, it's fine, it barely hurts. I killed my first walker by myself though! It yanked my hair and pulled me down, just like the one at the campground, but I had my knife out and I got him." Daryl's face clouded over and he sat up on the cot. "Who were you with? Why didn' they kill it when it grabbed yer hair?" 

I raised myself to my knees and tried to push Daryl back down on the cot. "Shhhh! It's fine, I'm okay and it wasn't anybody's fault. You need your rest." He shoved my hand away and stood up, swaying slightly. "Tell me. Who you. Were with." he gritted out and I sighed and sat back down on the ground. "I wasn't with anyone. The rest of the group went to the shooting range and I went out by myself to look. But I was careful and I had a compass and a map and I found my way just fine. There was just the one walker and I took care of it. It was good, actually, and I felt like I figured some stuff out about what I can handle." 

I grabbed his hand and tried to tug him back down onto his cot but he jerked it away, unzipped the tent, and stomped outside. I followed warily, watching him pace back and forth before turning toward me to yell. "You went out alone? After I just almost died out there? What the fuck were you thinkin'? What the fuck good is it gonna do if you go out there to look and get fuckin' bit yerself? You think that's gonna help that little girl? You think that's gonna help me or, or anyone?" 

I crossed my arms and waited for him to stop yelling before I responded quietly, "You can yell all you want Daryl, and I get why you're pissed but no one else was going to go look for her, and I couldn't just sit around here, or go shoot a fucking gun at some tin cans. I am _fine._ I'm not hurt, and I'm not apologizing." 

I left before he could say anything else, and brushed past Glenn, Dale, and Carol before deciding I needed to take a walk to cool off. Rick and Lori were across the field and I didn't want to disturb them so I headed the other direction, careful not to go too far since the light was fading. I was just walking the fence line, trying to decide if I'd done anything wrong when I saw Shane coming toward me. He kept approaching when I stopped and came to lean against the fencepost next to me. I could feel the tension radiating off of him and I wondered if he'd seen Rick and Lori as well. Whatever was happening with the three of them was going to come to a head at some point and I hoped I wasn't around to see it.

"Why didn't you come to the shooting range today?" he said. "I think everyone in the group needs to learn how to defend themselves, and I'm a certified instructor. Now maybe you want to just hang out with Lori and Carol around camp and that's fine, but I know you’re up in arms about ‘gender roles’, and if you want to do anything else I expect you to take the time to learn some real skills." I shook my head and turned away, knowing I wasn't in the mood to have this conversation with him, but he grabbed my shoulder and spun me back around. "Don't walk away when I'm talkin to you, ya hear? This ain't a joke and I'm not gonna put up with any attitude. You get on board with the group, or you leave, got it?" 

I stepped away from him and yanked my arm from his grasp. "Take your hands off of me. I was out in the woods looking for Sophia today, and I had a weapon with me. I defended myself just fine when I ran into a walker, and I've got no interest in wasting ammo and creating a bunch of noise to draw more of them just so I can get good at shooting. I've shot a gun before and you're the last person I'd want help from if I ever have to do it again."

I started walking back to the house and Shane followed me. "I'm not finished with this conversation. I don't like your elitist attitude, and I don't like you hangin' out with Daryl. He's rubbing off on you and it's not good for the group." I spun around and took a step toward him, stopping him in his tracks. "I don't give a fuck what you think about me," I began in a low voice. "You don't know me, and you don't know Daryl. Stay. The fuck. Away. From me." 

Shane wasn't one of those guys from the bar - he was a police officer who clearly cared about Lori and Carl - but he had become unhinged enough that the look in his eyes when I told him off scared me in the same way they had. He grabbed my wrists and pushed me against the fence post and I almost screamed, before telling myself that he wouldn't actually hurt me. He pushed his forearm against my chest so hard I thought there might be bruises in my back the next day and gripped my chin. "You need to watch yourself" he growled, "there ain't room for everyone in this group, and I sure as hell ain't leaving." 

"Let go of me or I'll scream," I said calmly but firmly, refusing to show him I was scared, and he relaxed his grip. I pulled away and left him in the dark while I headed to where Glenn and Dale were eating dinner, glad for the company for once. 


	15. Grief

_And the old widow goes to the stone every day_   
_But I don't, I just sit here and wait_   
_Grieving for the living_

I woke up in a bad mood and Glenn's revelation about the barn didn't help. I was as unnerved by it as the next person, but Shane was completely off base and I found myself hoping that Rick would do something about him soon, since clearly he wouldn’t listen to anyone else. I found Carol crying in the barn, after Daryl apparently yelled at her for not believing he'd find her daughter. 

I reached out and squeezed Carol's arm gently, remembering what Daryl had asked of me. "I think this is just something that Daryl feels like he can do, and maybe no one else can. Rick put him in charge of the search, and I don't think that's happened much in his life, so if you're doubting he’ll find her it might feel like you don't think he's good enough." Carol wiped her face and nodded. "I think you're right. I didn't mean that at all, I know that if she's out there, Daryl can find her, it's just hard to keep my spirits up." 

I wrapped my arm around her shoulders in a tentative hug. "Why don't we go find him and all head out together to look? It's actually really peaceful in the woods and it might make you feel better to do something rather than waiting." Carol nodded and together we talked Daryl into going out together for a few hours. We took the area closest to the farm when Andrea and Rick said they'd go further out, and by the time we headed back, Carol's spirits were much higher. Daryl really tried hard with her, and I knew they understood each other on a level I couldn't, because of similarities in their respective pasts. 

_________________

I should have known that Shane wouldn't let the barn go. Rick was clearly unhappy with Herschel's walker-catching scheme, but I assumed he was helping as a way of showing Herschel that he was trying to understand so we could convince him to clear the barn. Shane didn't care though, and just rammed ahead with what he wanted to do, and in the end it all hurt Carol and Daryl more than anyone. I knelt on the ground behind them, tears streaming down my face, as Carol screamed and Daryl kept her from running to Sophia's corpse. I'd never witnessed any pain so raw and tangible, and I pushed thoughts of my own children as far away as I could. They were safe and happy, and I couldn't let myself believe anything different. 

Daryl had stormed off to his tent after Carol refused to have a funeral, and I had walked Carol out to the woods for a bit where I kept watch while she grieved. I knew Daryl blamed himself for not finding Sophia, and that he felt like a failure for continuing to look while she was right next to us in the barn. But I didn't have any magical words to make him feel better, and he didn't seem to want to talk to anyone, so I gave him some space. 

Rick and Glenn went into town to try and find Herschel while Andrea and Lori helped Maggie with Beth. I cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and left the house in time to see Lori coming back from the direction of where Daryl had moved his tent, away from the rest of the group. She pushed by me and said, "Your redneck friend needs an attitude adjustment. I'm going to find Rick since he's too busy being an asshole to help out." I ignored her and kept walking the way she'd come. 

I could feel Daryl's anger before I saw him, but it ebbed slightly when he realized I wasn't Lori. "I ain't goin' to town to find Rick," he said, turning away from me and running his knife down the arrow he was whittling. "I'm not asking you to," I replied. "I just wanted to see if you were okay." He shrugged off the question. "M'fine. Just tired of people askin' me ta do shit fer them.”

"I don't blame you," I sighed, sitting down. "I'm kind of tired of people myself. I just want to find a quiet spot in those woods and never leave. Never deal with all this drama, or watch the world fall apart. It would be nice." Daryl settled himself on a rock near me. 

"That's what I always had . . . before. My own place, nobody to bug me 'cept Merle when he'd come around." I waited for him to finish but he just dropped his head and continued shaping the arrow. We sat in silence for a bit until he turned his head to look at me sideways. "I don' always mind bein' around people anymore though, 'long as they aren't pissin' me off." 

I felt a familiar ache in the pit of my stomach as I looked at him. Daryl meant something to me, possibly more than I was ready to admit, and every time he opened up I just wanted more of whatever he was willing to share. "Any chance you want some company up here? I can stay quiet so I don't piss you off too much." He worried the inside of his cheek for a second before giving me a quick nod-shrug combo and I went to move my stuff. 

I kept quiet, as I had promised, but laid out to look at the stars again once it got dark. I'd brought us some food from the house and Daryl had built a fire. Carol had informed us that Lori couldn't be found and that Shane was going to go look for her. I didn't blame Daryl for not offering to go himself; he'd done enough, and quite frankly Shane needed to contribute a little more. 

Daryl settled himself on the grass next to me and laced his fingers behind his head. "You know any constellations?" he asked. I shook my head, "I know the names of some but I wouldn't know how to find them." He pointed south, "You like tea, right? Like, couldn' stop talkin' about how much you missed it those first few days. Over there, that's called the teapot. You can see the four brightest in a kinda triangle." 

His finger traced the shape in the sky and I could see the outline of a lid, handle, and spout. "How did I never hear about a constellation called the teapot?" Daryl pointed to the west of the cluster of stars and said, "'Cuz it's just a part of Sagittarius. The rest of it is harder to see, though." 

"The centaur?" I asked, and he nodded. "Yeah, in the middle of the Milky Way. You can only see it in the summer 'round here." I shook my head. "How did you learn all of this?"

Daryl shrugged. "After I got lost as a kid, I thought maybe I could learn to navigate by the stars if it ever happened again. Didn' work a course, but it did help me trick some girls into lyin' on a blanket with me in the dark later on." I could tell he was smirking and I elbowed him halfheartedly in his side. "Teenage boys are assholes," I teased. "Though I'm pretty sure any girls that went 'stargazing' with you knew exactly what they were doing." Daryl shifted slightly and I could feel him looking at me. "What was your excuse? Studyin' 'chemistry'?" 

I laughed. "I didn't need any. I wasn't the type of girl who got asked to go ‘stargazing’, or anything else. At least not by anyone I didn't find completely boring. I was a bit of a cliché - the valedictorian always in love with some brilliant-but-tortured juvenile delinquent, none of whom wanted anything more than a sympathetic ear and help with their homework. Anyway, I never did the whole hookup or dating thing. I spent all my time studying, reading, going to church, and padding my college applications with extracurricular activities. Pretty boring teenager, actually.”

Daryl snorted, “And now ya help juvenile delinquents as their lawyer?” I groaned, “Let’s not psychoanalyze _that_ too closely. And I married someone pretty opposite of who I usually liked, in the end. My husband was my first real boyfriend, and we met our senior year of high school and just sort of fell into a relationship eventually. Not in a bad way, just moved from friendship into something more without a lot of drama. Got engaged a little after graduation, married at 20. Had our first kid right after college, at 22." 

Daryl didn't respond right away, and we stayed quiet while I tried unsuccessfully to pick out the Big Dipper, the only constellation I thought I might be able to find on my own. Eventually, Daryl spoke again, "I figured you woulda met yer husband in college or somethin'. Seems kinda like a frat boy type." 

I shook my head slightly, "No, not really. I mean, he comes from a lot more money than me, and he's outgoing and good at sort of charming people but he never did that whole social scene thing much. We grew up pretty quick, getting married so young, and having kids right away. He's far from perfect and leans on me to do a lot of the more boring stuff in life and keep everything organized, but he's a good guy and a good dad." I huffed a quiet laugh, " Hopefully he's remembered to give them at least one bath since I've been gone and made a salad or something." 

"Ya like bein' in charge of everything?" Daryl asked, with a slightly sarcastic edge to his tone, and I shrugged. “I'm not now, am I? It's kind of a weird turnaround, to be honest. All of a sudden I'm just dependent on others because I’m not very big or strong and never learned how to physically defend myself. But in my old life, that wouldn't have made any sense. My brain was the only weapon I needed, and I learned how to use that pretty damn well. Now it's basically useless."

Daryl didn't answer, and we lay in silence looking at the stars for a while. I was getting sleepy when he finally spoke again. "When'd ya get yer tattoo?" I rolled toward him, so my right shoulder with the tattoo was close enough for him to look at it, and he brushed my skin lightly with his thumb as he skimmed over the names woven into the Japanese maple branches. My skin raised in goosebumps at his touch and I was thankful the dark hid my flushed cheeks.

"Yer kids' names?" he asked, and I nodded, a lump in my throat as I thought about them. "I got it a year ago. I wanted to have something of them with me at all times, and now I'm really thankful I did it. Merle said you're a tattoo artist?" 

Daryl snorted. "Hardly. Jus' do stick an’ poke stuff sometimes for Merle's friends for some cash." I prodded his shoulder, wordlessly asking him to roll over, and I cautiously pushed his shirt back to reveal the top of the demon tattoo on the right-hand side of his upper back when he complied. "Who did this?" 

"Jus' a guy Merle knows. I was pretty lit and must've drawn it and asked him to put it on my back. Don' even remember, but I woke up the next day with it." I laughed softly. "That’s a pretty impressive sketch for someone who was so drunk they can’t remember, but I’m pretty sure tattoo artists aren't supposed to let people make decisions in that state," I teased. 

Daryl rolled his eyes. "Guess y'ain't familiar with the kinda 'tattoo artists' Merle hangs out with. The drunker the better s'far as they're concerned."

I let his shirt fall back into place, suddenly aware of my hand on his warm skin, and laid back down. I couldn’t tell if he felt the tension that was making me keenly aware of every nerve ending in my body, or not. He rolled onto his back again, putting more space between us, and it eased, mercifully. The night was peaceful and warm, and I felt safe lying next to him. I must have drifted off because the next thing I knew Daryl was shaking my shoulder gently and saying, "Hey, ya don' wanna sleep out here. Time fer bed," and I stumbled into my tent with a mumbled, "'Night Daryl," and fell soundly asleep. 


	16. Plans

Daryl was gone when I awoke, so I made my way to the group campfire just in time to see Rick, Glenn, and Herschel arrive with Randall, throwing a new wrench into the works. After what seemed like a never-ending discussion about what to do among the group members, Shane predictably taking sides against Rick and Herschel, I decided I couldn't stand it anymore and needed some fresh air. I kept myself busy helping Patricia with the animals and garden, and found that I really enjoyed the familiar task of pulling weeds. If I closed my eyes I could almost imagine I was at my parent's farm. 

Daryl spent the day with T-Dog, working on the tractor, which had been giving them some trouble, and repairing a fence. I didn't talk to him until dinner, which we were now eating inside the farmhouse. Herschel had clearly warmed to Rick, and it seemed our group was going to be able to stay.

Watching Daryl and T-Dog work on the fence had gotten me thinking about how we could make the farm safer, and I hoped to get a few minutes to discuss it with Rick, our de facto leader, but Shane wouldn't let the issue of Randall go, and between that and all the work around the farm it took a couple of days before I could get some time alone with him.

Daryl and I had mostly just crashed at night, tired from working all day, but I'd talked a little about getting ready for winter, and he'd hummed his agreement or nodded most of the time, so felt like I was on pretty solid ground. I caught up to Rick as he headed toward the fence repair project and asked for a minute. 

"I think we need to really think about the next few months, or even longer." I said, ramping up my persuasive argument skills. "If we're going to stay here for the winter, and I think we should, we need to start making runs into town to find warm clothes and some warmer bedding. We've got to figure out how to keep everyone inside, maybe go to abandoned farms and pick their produce so we can preserve a lot of it since we’re nearing the end of the growing season. If we can find some animals to bring back we'll be able to have meat as well, and maybe we can even find a cow or goat that's in milk, or at least bred. We should be able to get lots of dried beans, grains, and flour in town but we've got to start now so we can arrange storage for it all, and come up with a chore schedule so everyone's pitching in. And I think we need to use the winter, when there's not much to do on the farm, to build walls. We can find all kinds of material that could be built up around the fences so we aren't so visible to walkers." 

Rick had stayed silent while I talked, and I stopped to give him a chance to reply. I knew I had blurted out a lot and caught him off guard, but he just nodded slowly and said, "You're right. I shoulda been thinkin' about that too. I've just been so focused on what needed to be done right now . . ." 

"Of course you have," I said. "You've been doing a good job of taking care of all that, which is the only reason I've had time to think about it. And I'm happy to organize it and come up with a plan, I'm just going to need your help to get everyone on board when the time comes." He regarded me thoughtfully and shook his head with a rueful smile. "I guess I shoulda taken more time to get to know you, Ana. I just kinda thought of you as Daryl's liberal friend who packs a punch when she gets pissed off." 

I could feel the heat in my cheeks as I retorted defensively, "Just so you know, I'd never punched anyone before. And I apologized!" but Rick was laughing and raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, no judgment! You let her know how you felt and she survived just fine. But in all seriousness, you want to organize this? It's not too much?" 

"Nope, it’s right in my wheelhouse," I said. "I'll talk to Maggie about what's available around here, see if she and Glenn can scope out some nearby farms. I'll work on a list of what we need from town so folks can be more organized on runs, and figure out who knows what when it comes to food preservation. That'll get us started." Rick nodded and grasped my shoulder. "I appreciate that, and it sounds like you’re more than capable. Let me know what you need from me, anytime." With that, he headed toward the fence and I walked to the farmhouse with a new sense of purpose. 

________________

I spent the next couple of days working on a list of projects and needed supplies with Maggie. She knew all the local farms and we speculated on what we could recover from the ones she knew were abandoned. I could tell she was hesitant to raid the homes of people she'd known her whole life, and worried about what she might find, but knew it was necessary. Whatever we didn't find there, we needed to get from town, including medical supplies. It sounded like Lori's labor with Carl was difficult, and we needed to be prepared for that in addition to injuries and illness.

Carol had done some food preservation in the past, and I spent every fall canning on the weekends, so we created a rough schedule for taking over the kitchen to preserve what was left of the harvest, and I figured we could use the cold months to teach everyone some basic cooking skills so we could share the burden of meal prep. 

Coming up with a way to reinforce the fences was more difficult, particularly since I didn't know much about construction. I made my way to my tent after dinner, the night before Rick and Shane planned to take Randall out and drop him off, and found Daryl had built a fire and was working on forming more bolts for his crossbow.

He looked up as I sat down on a log across from him. "How's the planning comin'?" I wiped a hand over my face and groaned. "Fine, I guess, I'm just kind of stumped when it comes to the protection part. Any ideas on how to build up the fences so walkers can't see us, or get through? I'm worried we'll get a big group like on the highway, and they'll push through a fence if they're drawn toward the lights and noise." 

Daryl scratched his chin, thoughtfully. "Could take down a barn nearby, maybe, or find a lumber yard. Wouldn' be hard to build the fences taller and close in all the gaps, it'd just take a while. But makin' 'em stronger . . . I dunno. Wood just ain't gonna hold under enough pressure. We'd need bricks or cinder blocks, and probably concrete to make somethin' really sturdy." I nodded. "Maybe we start by building them higher, and then collect any bricks or cinder blocks we can, and work our way around the base to start? It won't be perfect, but better than nothing. Is that even doable though?" 

Daryl shrugged. "Yeah, we jus' need to start now and do a little at a time. Not sure Shane's gonna be on board though. I don't think he wants to stay here, and he's barely talkin' to Rick right now. You told him about any a yer plans?" I shook my head. "No. Just Maggie, Carol, and Rick. Lori's focused on Carl and helping with Beth, and Andrea doesn't know shit about putting up food for winter. I figure she can help with runs to town maybe, but I haven't talked to her about it. I was holding off on recruiting folks to help until after this whole Randall thing was over." 

Daryl huffed out a humorless laugh. "Takin' care of Randall ain't gonna solve the problem between Rick and Shane. It's gonna end bad and I jus' hope it's Rick that comes out on top. Don' trust Shane at all." I knew that Daryl had come to respect Rick and I was pretty Rick had started to see Daryl in a new light as well. I could imagine the two of them working well together, if Shane wasn't constantly causing problems. "Yeah, he worries me too. He was weird the other night when I ran into him." 

Daryl turned to look at me and raised an eyebrow in a silent question. "It wasn't a big deal," I assured him, "he just got pissed and told me there wasn't room for everyone in the group." I left out the physical intimidation - Daryl didn't need another reason to go off on someone. He watched me carefully for a moment with narrowed eyes but went back to his work without comment. 

I watched the flames for a bit, listening to Daryl's knife scrape down the wood he held in his hand until I was too tired to sit up straight and the logs had burned down. We kicked dirt on the embers and I was trudging to my tent when Daryl spoke quietly in the darkness, "It's good what yer doin', Ana. Rick sees that, said as much today. Nobody else can think that far ahead, make plans. He's gonna listen to what you say."

I took a couple of steps until I was close enough to see Daryl's silhouette in the dark. "He needs you too, you know. He's not relying on Shane anymore and I think he's starting to look to you." He didn't respond, but I reached out and squeezed his arm gently. "Good night, Daryl," I said, lifting the flap to my tent. 

I lay in the dark, straining to hear Daryl's steady breathing just a few feet away in his tent. I closed my eyes and tried to think of my husband, rather than leather and smoke, tanned skin, and piercing blue eyes. I pushed my hands down against my stomach, willing the arousal to go away so I could sleep. It felt like hours, but eventually, I drifted off, only to dream of his voice in my ear and hard body pressed against mine. 


	17. Dale

I think I was right about Rick's view of Daryl in some ways, but Shane got in his head again after Randall's confession about knowing Maggie. I wasn't sure what exactly had gone down between them, but it seemed to have paradoxically put more of a rift in their relationship, and gotten Rick to listen to Shane more. Despite Dale's pleading, he seemed set on killing Randall. He didn't even try to talk to Daryl about it, though he had been happy enough to let him do the dirty work of getting Randall to talk. For his part, Daryl just retreated more into himself and pulled away from me and everyone else. I knew he'd begun to think Rick might trust him, and this had sent him back to feeling out of place.

I agreed with Dale, and I appreciated his words to Daryl about having influence with Rick, but Daryl clearly didn't see it the same way. I tried to get him to talk to me about what he thought we should do, but he refused to give me an answer. "Don' matter what I think. Rick's gonna decide this with Shane and that's final." I suspected he leaned more towards killing Randall but I couldn't tell how conflicted he was about it, and the more I pushed the angrier he got until he finally lost his cool and yelled at me to leave him alone. 

I offered to relieve T-Dog on watch over Randall and slipped inside the building while no one was looking. I knelt down in front of him and my heart broke as I looked at his bruised and bloodied face. "I'm sorry they did this to you" I murmured, tilting his head gently to the side to get a better look. "I don't agree with the way they're treating you." He half-sobbed and closed his eyes, a tear sliding down his dirty cheek. 

"I'm tellin' you, I didn't do any of that stuff with my group. They were just protection - I lost all my family and I didn't know what to do." I squeezed his shoulder gently. "I know. I'm going to do my best to convince them you deserve a chance." 

Randall nodded and opened his eyes, but widened them as he looked behind me, and I stood up and spun around. Daryl stood there, clearly furious, the planes of his shoulders rigid with anger. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he exploded. "Stay the fuck away from him!" 

I shook my head, "Daryl, he's tied up, he's not going to hurt me. I just wanted to talk to him." "No," Daryl bit out, "you don't _get_ to talk to him. You don't know a damn thing about dealin' with real life. This ain't some courtroom with judges and lawyers _talkin'_ it all out. This is just survival, and we do what it takes to make it." 

"Is that what you'd say if it were Merle sitting here?" It just slipped out, and I regretted it almost immediately when I saw hurt flash in Daryl's eyes. "I'm sorry, I know it's not the same. But Merle was in that group in the bar and wasn't going to help me and you've got to see the parallels here!" 

He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the door, shoving me outside where I jerked my arm free. "We can't lose sight of what makes us different from folks like Randall's group," I pleaded. "If we start killing the living, where do we stop?" 

Daryl glared at me and jerked his chin toward the house. "Get the fuck outta here. I'm takin' over watch." I stood there, hands on my hips for a long moment before accepting that he wasn't going to discuss it further. "Fine," I turned back to the house. "But I think you know I’m right, deep down."

__________________

Most of the group didn't want the responsibility of making the decision, which left just Dale, me, and eventually, Andrea voicing our objections to killing a human being when we gathered that evening. Rick looked at me across the living room where I stood next to Maggie. "You've been talkin' about the future; keeping us safe. How can we do that with a constant threat?" 

"Killing him is not an option, Rick," I said. "I went to work every day to stand up for kids who made stupid mistakes, and the worst thing _they_ were facing was being locked up in juvie. I could never sentence a kid to _death_ who was just trying to survive. I know he shot at you, but he was scared and clearly not part of a group he could trust to have his back. We don't get to execute someone just because we're scared of what he might _possibly_ do someday, especially not when we can give him a chance to prove himself."

Rick looked at Daryl, "You got anything to add?" Daryl scoffed, "She don't speak for me and I don' give a shit what she thinks. You do what you think is best and let's get on with it." Rick nodded and I blinked back tears and looked away from Daryl's defiant stare.

I knew he was frustrated with me for dragging this out, and still angry that I’d brought up Merle, but I couldn't stop seeing Randall as one of my countless juvenile clients; scared, helpless, and regretting everything he'd done to bring him to this point. I didn't understand how Daryl couldn't see that either, growing up the way he had. 

Rick, Shane, and Daryl headed out to execute Randall and Dale went for a walk. I just sat on the porch steps in a daze, struggling to come to grips with what was happening. I felt the group fracturing and wondered if I'd end up on the same side as Daryl in the end, or if our tentative friendship would be broken too. 

Rick came back, obviously shaken by Carl's sudden appearance in the barn, and I saw Daryl pushing Randall ahead of him back to the shed. Shane stormed away while Rick explained what had happened to Lori and the rest of us. Andrea looked at me with a small smile. "I'll go find Dale and tell him," she said as she got up, heading toward the pasture. I thought about trying to talk to Daryl but he hadn't returned from the shed and I thought he must have gone for a walk as well. 

It was only a few minutes before we heard screaming, and then Daryl's voice calling us to where Dale lay, torn open by a walker. I couldn't look away, frozen by the sight of the thoughtful, caring man suffering on the ground in front of us. Rick's hand shook as he held the gun until Daryl carefully took it from his grasp and knelt down. Dale used what little strength he had to press his head closer to the barrel, letting us know this was what he wanted, and Daryl murmured something to him before pulling the trigger. 


	18. Useless

_Your touch brought forth an incandescent glow,  
Tarnished but so grand _

I sat by the cold fire pit near our tents that night and cried for Dale. He'd been so gentle and kind, and always thoughtful. Were we all going to end up that way: dead because we spent one moment alone, not being fully alert? How could we function like that? Daryl had gone to talk to Rick at the farmhouse and I didn't realize he was back until he was almost in front of me. I wiped my eyes quickly and stood up to go to my tent but Daryl grabbed my arm. 

"Don' go wanderin' off alone anymore, ya hear? Ya still don' know how to use a gun, and y'ain't good at killin' walkers with a knife yet either. Y’need ta go somewhere, ask me or someone else ta go with you." I nodded and then noticed he was holding a pair of scissors. 

"What are those for?" I asked, but he ignored my question and nudged me back toward the log where I'd been sitting. "Gonna learn ta build a fire," he said, handing me some kindling. I'd learned that Daryl answered questions in his own time and that pushing wouldn't get me anywhere, so I acquiesced. 

I built the fire, following his terse instructions, and soon had it crackling away. I sat down on the log next to Daryl and he picked up the scissors. "Turn yer head,” he said gruffly. “Yer hair's gonna get grabbed again if ya keep it this long and I promised yer kids I'd bring ya back." 

I turned my head, realizing what he was doing, and bit my lip to stop myself from crying again. I tended to be a calm and rational person, but sometimes teared up easily, and today had been a merry go round of feelings. I knew if I let myself dwell on Daryl being thoughtful, I'd lose it. 

"You ever think about being a hairdresser?" I teased, trying to lighten the mood as he snipped the back of my hair to about chin length. He snorted in response and I smiled. "My sister's a hairdresser. One of them, anyway." Daryl turned my chin to face him while he knelt in front of me, and began cutting the front part of my hair, not meeting my eyes. "Ya miss 'em," he stated, not asking. 

"Yeah," I whispered, keeping my head still. "I mean, I didn't even get along with her much. But I went from being part of a big family to being . . . no one. No past connection to anyone here, just trying to survive and relying on you to help me." 

Daryl had finished my hair but stayed crouched in front of me for a moment, eyes narrowed a little but holding mine steadily. "Y'ain't no one," he said huskily. "I know it ain't the same as bein' with family, but yer important to the group, y’keep us focused on th’ important stuff. S'why ya gotta be careful." He was close enough that I could have kissed him, but I just nodded and tried to bury the thought, guilt bubbling in my stomach.

He straightened up and put the scissors away, then settled himself next to me on the log. I tentatively leaned my head on his shoulder, and when he didn't shrug me off right away, relaxed a little into him. "Thanks for doing my hair," I said, and laughed quietly at the way it sounded. "Just don't tell anyone," Daryl muttered, and I nodded against his shoulder drowsily, only waking slightly when he pulled me to my feet and gently shoved me toward my tent. 

__________

Dale's death had a profound effect on many of us, but none so much as Rick. We could all feel the shift in him as he pivoted away from Shane's influence and drew closer to Herschel and Daryl. I could see Daryl's conflicting emotions while Rick talked about Dale during the funeral and his understanding that Rick was now counting on him to run things. Shane saw it too, watched the remains of his influence in the group slip away, and became even more of a loose cannon. 

I helped Herschel stock the basement with supplies and Maggie and I talked him through our plans for the winter. He grasped both our shoulders and squeezed affectionately. "You two impress me. While we've all been lost in grief and just trying to make it to the next day, you've been figuring out how we're going to truly live. We're gonna need you, more than any of us realize I think." Maggie and I smiled at each other, ready to make our plans a reality now that the group had pulled itself back together. I felt like Maggie could be a real friend, and I was glad to be working alongside her.

We heard T-Dog yelling and ran out on the porch. Daryl, Glenn, and Rick headed out with Shane to search the woods when Shane told us Randall had overpowered him and run away with his gun. The rest of us holed up inside, terrified as darkness fell with a new threat somewhere outside. When Daryl and Glenn came back with the disturbing news that Randall had been a walker and that Rick and Shane were still out there, I could see Lori's panic that something had gone wrong, even before she realized Carl was missing.

Everything next happened in a blur. The herd headed for the house, the barn caught on fire, Jimmy took the RV to try and help Rick and Carl escape it, and the rest of us attempted to defend the house. 

Eventually, it became clear that were couldn't succeed, and we scattered to the vehicles. I grabbed Carol's hand and pushed her into the back of T-dog's truck but he pulled away, tires squealing before I could get in. I began to run for the woods beyond the road, but Daryl pulled up beside me on his bike and I swung my leg over the seat behind him. I turned my head to look at the farm, barn blazing and the yard filled with walkers, before burying my face in Daryl's vest while he sped away. 

____________

Everyone but Andrea, Shane, Jimmy, and Patricia made it to the highway by morning. Daryl had driven in circles for a while, trying to lose any walkers that might be following the noise, and we found T-Dog, Lori, Beth, and Carol; and Glenn and Maggie on the road. We eventually headed for the traffic snarl where we'd left the signs for Sophia, and found Carl, Rick, and Herschel waiting for us. The relief at finding each other was quickly followed by a stunned realization of those we'd lost in the fight. We consolidated into two cars and Daryl's bike and headed out, away from the main roads. 

I felt myself slipping into a daze, unable to process everything that had happened in the past 24 hours. I'd been so focused on building a sustainable future on the farm for the past several weeks that I couldn't get my head around the loss of that dream. I stared at the fire we'd built when we stopped for the night, unable to deal with the group's argument over what we should do. Carol, Glenn, and Maggie seemed to want to leave Rick, but Daryl and Herschel could see the folly in splitting up and I just couldn't bring myself to care. 

Rick still clung to a vision of somewhere we could build a life, and deep down I believed he was right, but I didn't know if I could put my hopes into that again when it seemed like such a pipe dream. I knew I'd go wherever Daryl went, and Daryl wanted to follow Rick, so that's what we'd do. I saw Daryl watching me with concern over the next few days as we drifted from place to place, trying to find a safe spot. I had suggested going back to the farm, to see what was left, but the Greenes shot that idea down, likely terrified of what they’d find. I hardly spoke to anyone after that, retreating into my head and simply going through the motions of eating, sleeping, killing walkers, moving on every time we ran into a new herd. 

Beth had been in a similar state, but her father and Carol were able to draw her out of it eventually. It was good for Carol to have someone to mother again, and Beth wasn't much older than Sophia had been. Daryl and Rick made a good team, and always seemed to be on the same page, and T-Dog had comfortably assumed a supportive role to their leadership. Lori was still furious with Rick for killing Shane and taking it out on him. In turn, he tuned her out and focused on the bigger task of keeping the group safe. 

I couldn't stand to be around Lori; we'd never gotten along well, and she had become more and more hostile toward me as her pregnancy progressed and Rick continued to shut her out. Thankfully Herschel had taken a more active role in helping Lori get the nutrition and rest she needed, and Carl had started to look up to him as well. That left me as the odd one out, unable to connect with anyone on a deeper level. Daryl was focused on protection, and always looked out for me when we came across walkers, but he didn't know how to navigate any kind of emotional issue and there were always more pressing needs so the brief closeness I’d felt at the farm dissipated. He had talked me through killing more walkers, and I felt pretty competent with my knife, but we didn't have enough ammunition to practice with a gun.

Part of the problem was that I didn't feel like I had a useful role in the group. Glenn and Maggie had gotten good at scavenging, making runs together to get gas or other supplies when we ran out. Daryl, Rick, and T-Dog kept watch every night and protected the group as we traveled, and Lori and Carol had children to care for. I helped Glenn and Maggie when they needed an extra set of hands, and I could handle a walker if I needed to, but most of the time I felt useless and slipped further and further into depression. 


	19. Cold

The weather had steadily gotten colder. We'd found warm coats for everyone, and quite a few blankets, but food was getting harder and harder to come by and we were all losing weight. Lori looked skeletal other than her growing belly, with all of her nutrients going toward the fetus. We'd finally found some prenatal vitamins, and I'd grabbed several other bottles of supplements for the rest of us. Hunting in the winter was almost nonexistent, though Daryl did his best, and I was pretty sure we were all anemic.

At night, we'd huddle in whatever space we currently occupied, and folks had begun to group together in order to stay warm. Carol, Beth, Lori, and Carl huddled close in one corner, while Herschel slept back-to-back with either T-Dog or Rick, whoever wasn't on watch. Maggie and Glenn often found a more private spot to sleep, to all of our relief, and Daryl never seemed to get cold and could crash anywhere. I usually curled up somewhere near Carol and Beth but didn't feel comfortable getting close enough to share their warmth. The loss of my own children, and not knowing whether they were still out there or not, was pulling me further and further into a depressive spiral and I knew I was pushing people away but I couldn't help myself.

It had finally gotten cold enough that I couldn't fall asleep for shivering. I wandered outside where Rick was on watch and offered to take over. He looked at me carefully before agreeing, with the understanding that I'd yell if I saw anything rather than trying to take care of it myself. I was supposed to wake Daryl after a few hours to take over, but I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep anyway so I figured I'd let him get more rest. He came out anyway, a couple of hours before dawn, and seemed angry that I hadn't woken him up but I didn't care. It felt good to do something that helped the group, and it didn't make sense for me to lie on the floor shivering when I could keep warm by moving. I ignored Daryl's admonitions and went inside to pack up before we left.

The next evening I took over for T-Dog during the second shift, as I'd spent the first half of the night shivering and trying unsuccessfully to sleep. I knew that it would catch up to me eventually and made a mental note to ask Herschel if he knew of any sporting good stores around that might have warm sleeping bags. We'd found one early on where Daryl had gotten a bunch of new bolts, but it was picked almost clean of any camping gear and we had been staying away from towns since then.

We had to move again the next day when a herd came through, and we barely made it out with our stuff. We only had a couple of cans of beans to share amongst us that night, and all went to bed hungry. Rick had refused to let me take watch again, insisting that everyone had to have at least one full night's sleep a couple of times a week, so I lay in the dark shivering under my blanket and tried to remember my kids' faces. Occasionally something would remind me of them and I'd see them so clearly I could almost reach out and touch them but when I tried to focus on the memories, they'd slip away and leave me unable to remember the exact curve of their cheek or shade of their eyes.

The other loss I felt acutely was touch. I hadn't realized how much physical touch we naturally share with our families until it was gone. Prior to the fall of the farm affection had been scarce enough, but now it had been weeks since I wrapped my arms around Daryl on his bike, and I found myself dreaming about it sometimes. I wondered if I should have felt guilty, but my husband was thousands of miles away, if he was still alive, and there was no chance I would see him any time soon. I'd begun to feel like even if I did make it back, I would be so different he might not recognize me as the woman he'd married and it was easier to imagine a lifetime of incidental contact with Daryl than regaining my relationship with my husband of almost 15 years.

I shifted against the cold floorboards, unable to stand it any longer. I wrapped the blanket around me and wandered outside, careful not to wake anyone. Daryl sat on a porch bench, crossbow leaning against the railing in front of him. He squinted at me in the dark. "You should be sleepin'" he rasped. "Didn' slip my attention that you been up the last two nights. You keep that up yer gonna doze off at the wrong time and get yerself killed, or someone else." 

I stared out at the yard and nodded slowly. "I know, and I'm trying. It's just too cold and I'd rather walk around and keep warm than lie there and shiver all night. I'll try and find warmer blankets the next place we go."

I felt a tug at my blanket and turned around. Daryl patted the bench next to him. "Yer too goddam skinny, that's the problem. Ain't enough food to put meat on your bones. Sit here and lean up against me. Ain't the best place to sleep but it'll be warmer than the floor." I sat next to him carefully, not wanting to overstep, but he shifted so he was pressed against my side and I leaned into him without meaning to, letting my head drop to his shoulder like I had that last night at the farm when he cut my hair. 

"Mm'sorry," I murmured. "I'm just so tired I can't . . . " Daryl rested his chin on the top of my head and pulled my blanket tighter around me. "S'okay, just go to sleep," he said quietly, but I was already drifting off.

Daryl shook me awake at the end of his watch and I stumbled back inside and laid down. The loss of his body heat was startling and I felt disoriented. I laid down on the floor and curled up, thankful for the sleep I'd managed to get while sitting next to him. It would see me through the next day at the very least. 

I turned my head when I heard footsteps next to me, and saw Daryl drop his blanket next to me and sit down. I couldn't see his eyes in the dark, but I could feel his awkwardness as he muttered, "This okay?" and I reached out a hand and found his to squeeze it. "Yes. Thank you. And you don't have to, you know." He shook his head and rasped quietly, "Don' mind. An it's better for everyone if you get enough sleep." I shifted so my back was pressed against his side and fell into a deep sleep.

I woke when cold air hit me as Daryl got up and realized I had turned toward him during the night and had probably freaked him out. Daryl was obviously uncomfortable with affection, and I hoped he wouldn't react badly to my unintentional cuddling, but there didn't seem to be any additional awkwardness between us as we went out looking for supplies. 

We settled into an unspoken routine over the next few weeks, where I sat with him when he was on watch and slept next to him when he wasn't. Every morning he left before I woke up, and we never talked about it, though the ache of arousal often kept me awake and fantasizing about him _really_ touching me, long after he drifted off. I took my own watch shifts as well, and I felt things within me sliding into place as I found a way to contribute to the group again. 


	20. Fences

The weather grew warmer as winter faded into spring, but food was still scarce. I managed to find tender dandelion shoots and lambs quarters for us to eat, but animals were just starting to emerge from hibernation and Daryl hadn't had much luck with hunting. Lori was getting bigger every day, and clearly exhausted and malnourished no matter how much we tried to supplement her rations with our own.

After dinner one night, Rick came up to me where I was walking the perimeter. "Been wantin' to talk to you. Now you know I'm tryin' to find a place where we can stay permanently, and you used to be thinkin' about all those future plans back at the farm. I need to know if you still think we can do that and if so, I need your help figuring out where to look. I'm not good at strategy, I think on my feet and I react in the moment, and I can't seem to stop and think long enough to come up with a plan. I know you were strugglin' for a while there, but it seems like you've figured some stuff out and I'm hopin' you'll step up here." He rubbed his face tiredly after his speech and put his hand on his hips, looking at me hopefully.

"Yeah, I think I'd like that," I said slowly. "You're right, I was lost for a while and I couldn't think about making all new plans with no place in sight. But we can't keep doing this with Lori getting closer and closer to the birth, and food running out. Let's look at a map tomorrow and at least come up with a strategy for thoroughly covering ground in our search." Rick gave me a small smile and a pat on the back as he headed back to the house, and I took a deep breath, hoping we'd figure something out the next day.

The herds had driven us out further than where Herschel was familiar with the terrain, so Maggie and Glenn found a map at a gas station. Our biggest issue was that the walkers seemed to be congregating more and more as time went on, and we had to change direction every time we ran into them. We started marking off parts of the map where we'd searched, moving further and further out. I racked my brain for any type of building that would have walls - wealthy estates, gated communities, private boarding schools, prisons maybe. They weren't on the map we'd found, and no one knew where anything like that could be, so we were essentially looking for a needle in a haystack. 

We continued to cover area on the map, one day at a time, and it helped to have some sort of focus on the future, despite the odds stacked against us. We did manage to collect some ammo, knowing that once we found somewhere we'd probably need to kill quite a few walkers in order to secure it. The only places I could think of with walls were pretty big, and heavily populated and there were bound to be a lot of bodies roaming around. We were washing our clothes in a creek when Rick and Daryl brought back news of the prison they'd stumbled across - the best news we'd had in weeks. 

We took the field without any losses, and I lay in the cool grass that night and said my first prayer of thanks in months. I wasn't sure if there was anyone out there listening, but it couldn't hurt. Carol took over for Daryl on watch, and he sat down next to me while Beth sang a song by the fire. I propped myself up on my elbow and looked at him in the flickering light. 

"You think this will work?" I asked. "'Gonna make it work" he replied simply. "Have to." I laid back down and shifted closer to him, closing my eyes and breathing the scent of leather, faint smoke, and the woods that always clung to his clothes. "I agree. It'll be a lot of work, but it's something we can focus on. Herschel thinks we can plant a garden and I think we could maybe raise some animals. It's just . . . hard not to assume the worst, after the farm. It's like I got too involved in making plans that got destroyed and now I'm afraid to make new ones." 

Daryl pulled a blanket out of his bag and spread it on the ground before responding. "Rick needs you to do it" he said, laying down. "Yer stronger than you think. And you ain't alone." I smiled faintly at him and moved myself onto the blanket next to him. It was getting warm enough that I didn't really need him next to me, but I'd grown used to it and he hadn't said anything about changing our routine. "You're right, I'm not alone." I said. "We'll make it work and we'll be okay. More than okay." I curled my body toward his and pressed myself into his side, hopeful about the promise of the next day in the safety of the tall fences.


	21. Handprints

As it turned out, making plans for the future would have to wait. Herschel's accident, the conflict with the surviving prisoners, and the attack of the walkers ended with Lori's death. Rick staggered off into the prison in shock, and the rest of us crowded around the brand new baby. Herschel proclaimed her healthy, but we needed to find formula so Daryl and I headed out. He'd seen a sign for a daycare a few miles away and we found it quickly.

I broke a window and climbed into what looked like a room for infants, with a few cribs and baby toys on the floor. Daryl crawled in after me and stood guard while I cleaned out the cupboards, grabbing diapers and bottles, a couple of pacifiers and diaper rash cream. We moved on to the kitchen and found cans of formula in the cupboards, but only enough for a week or so. The possum Daryl shot was a bonus. 

We walked back through the hallways, checking for more supplies and I stopped at a wall covered in brightly colored handprints. One yellow one read "Lucy", and I reached out my hand and pressed it to the paper. The senselessness of Lori's death and the tragedy of a child without a mother had brought my own abandoned children to the forefront of my mind and I couldn't push them away. They were out there, or they had been, without a mother, in the middle of the most terrifying thing they'd ever experienced - that the world had ever experienced. Could I even call myself a mother anymore? I was existing, surviving, but for what? A slim thread of hope that someday this would end and I would see them again?

I let out a small sob and crumpled my fist around the handprint, tearing it from the wall. I turned to leave but felt Daryl's chest against my cheek as he wrapped me in a tight hug. We stood there while I cried for my children, for Lori, for Sophia, for T-Dog, Carl, and Rick and he held me tightly and let me soak the front of his shirt with my tears. At last I took a shuddering breath and wiped my face. "I'm good. Let's get back" I said. Daryl tipped my chin up with his knuckle and looked at me carefully. Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it in my face because he nodded and headed outside. 

_______________

I watched from the steps leading to the upper deck while Daryl fed the baby. It was like every hard thing we went through forged him into a more complete person, smoothing out the rough spots and hardening his resolve, but also shaping him into someone who knew who he was and could connect with others on a level I suspected he never had before. Maggie sat down next to me and leaned her head on my shoulder. "That's a good look for him," she whispered. I bit back a smile and looked down at her. "I'll be honest. Makes my ovaries hurt looking at him holding her," I said under my breath. She laughed softly at that, and Daryl turned to look at us. "What? You don't like the name Lil Ass Kicker?" 

We both smiled and I got up from the steps and came to see her, beautiful and healthy, content as could be sucking away at the bottle of formula. I smoothed my hand over the peach fuzz on her head and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "She has that baby smell," I murmured and Daryl looked at me, puzzled. "Seriously, smell her head. There's nothing like it, and it only lasts for a few months." 

He shook his head, "I ain't sniffin' her hair, Princess" he drawled, but he gave me a small smile and held her out. "Wanna hold her?" I took the bundle from his arms and cradled her gently, swaying slightly to soothe her. "Hey there, baby girl," I cooed. It had been years since my kids were babies, but it felt as natural as breathing to rock her back and forth until she fell asleep. 

Rick still wasn't back so I took the baby to bed with me, as I'd done when my own kids were infants. Daryl was on watch and came to check on us when his shift was over. I was feeding her another bottle, propped up on my arm in my bunk as she lay next to me and I smiled at him standing in the doorway. "You look good with her," he said softly. 

"You did too," I responded sleepily, putting the empty bottle down on the table next to my bed. "You're good with kids, Daryl. You should be a dad someday." He scoffed and walked down the hall to his perch and I dozed off for another couple of hours. 


	22. Taken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - this is where the story starts to earn its rating. Rape/Non-Con, Assault, etc.

Rick was a mess, hearing things and seeing things that weren't there so the baby's care fell to everyone else for the next couple of days. Rick was fixated on his hallucinations so Daryl and Oscar worked on cleaning out more areas of the prison while Herschel tried to reason with Rick, but eventually, we were getting low enough on formula that we had to make another run. I went with Glenn and Maggie to the nearest town to find a grocery store. 

They were loading our haul into the car and I was checking the rest of the shelves when I heard shouting. I approached the door cautiously and peeked outside. Merle, sporting a knife in place of his missing hand, had a gun pressed to Maggie's head, his knife hand across her throat, and was shouting at Glenn. I could hardly wrap my head around the fact that he was alive, but I realized he would still be harboring resentment toward the people who had left him on the roof, so I slipped outside onto the sidewalk. 

"Merle," I called, and he turned his head, never taking the gun off of Glenn. "Ana?" he exclaimed incredulously as a big grin spread across his face. "Well waddaya know, the Princess survived." I rolled my eyes. "Merle, let Maggie go," I instructed. "She didn't do anything to you, and Daryl wouldn't want to see them get hurt." Merle didn't lower the gun, but his knife hand moved slightly further away from Maggie's throat. "I don't know about that Princess. I asked them to take me to Daryl and they refused." 

"I'll bring Daryl to you, Merle," I promised. "You can't blame them for thinking you might be looking for revenge." Merle grinned, "You ain't a dummy, Princess. I'll tell you what - I'll take these two with me and you run back and get my baby brother. Then we can work somethin' out." 

"Absolutely not," I said. "I'll stay with you if you want, but Glenn and Maggie get to leave." Merle considered this for a moment, then lowered his knife hand, keeping a tight grip on Maggie's arm. He opened his mouth, probably to make an inappropriate comment, but his eyes suddenly widened as he saw something behind me. I turned my head and caught a glimpse of a dark figure before I heard Merle yell, "Martinez, no!" and everything went black.

I woke up in a room with no windows. I was seated in a chair, bound and gagged, head throbbing. Maggie sat across the table from me, similarly restrained. We looked at each other with wide eyes but before I could try and talk to her around the gag, the door opened and a man walked in. He was dressed nicely, like a businessman from the old world, with neatly trimmed hair and a clean-shaven face. He smiled at me and I glared back at him, which made him laugh. 

"Got some feisty ones here. Your little friend gave me a piece of her mind while you were still out cold, before I gagged her." He grabbed a chair and sat at the table, between Maggie and me, turning his head to regard us individually. "Well now, this is a treat. It's not every day that my men bring me back two lovely women." I didn't take my eyes off Maggie, trying to tune out everything but her face to remind me of what was important. 

I was so focused on her that I didn't hear what he was saying, until he slammed his hand down on the table and yelled, "Look at me!" I jerked my head in surprise but refused to turn it toward him. He got up and walked to the door and called for whoever was on the other side. "Take this one," he gestured to Maggie, "next door. Maybe they'll cooperate better when I have their undivided attention." His henchman grabbed Maggie by her bound hands and dragged her from the room while I screamed her name around my gag. 

The well-dressed man grabbed my chin and jerked it toward him. His eyes were cold, and I began to feel the fear that I'd been holding off seep into my skin. "I haven't introduced myself yet," he said smoothly. "I'm Philip, but everyone here calls me The Governor. I usually welcome folks to Woodbury with open arms, but Martinez tells me that your friend who got away left Merle for dead back in Atlanta, and that there are more of you holed up somewhere, so I'm going to need some more information before I can be Mr. Nice Guy. Now, I'm going to have a little chat with your friend next door and see what she can tell me, and then I'll be back for you." 

He left the room and my thoughts raced. Glenn had gotten away? How? How much time had passed? Was he going to try and rescue us alone, or go back for the others? I hoped it would be the latter since this Governor guy clearly had plenty of armed help, but I was terrified they'd be heading into a situation they couldn't control. If Maggie and I could escape, we could avoid a major conflict in this guy's territory. 

I heard the Governor's voice in the next room but couldn't make out what he was saying. He must have taken out Maggie's gag because I heard her reply and then a loud crack! that sounded like a slap. I closed my eyes, praying he wouldn't hurt her too much, as the voices continued. Eventually, I heard the other door close and more talking in the hall. I thought I could make out Merle's gravelly tones, but they faded quickly and I was left listening to Maggie's muffled sobs. 

I sat alone for what must have been hours, trying in vain to loosen the ropes around my wrists. Maggie's crying had stopped, and I'd heard laughter and music coming from somewhere outside. It must be dark by now, and my stomach twisted with hunger, but when I heard footsteps in the hallway again, fear swept away all other thoughts. The Governor opened the door and stepped in, speaking quietly to whoever was outside. 

"Now," he said. "Let's see what's so special about you." Confusion must have shown on my face because he laughed and said, "Merle seems to think we should let you go. Says you always treated him nicely. But somethin' seems off about that. Merle's one of my best fighters, but this little Asian guy got away from him? See, I think maybe you've got something on Merle and I need to know what it is. Any thoughts?" 

With that, he removed my gag and tossed it in the corner. I stared at him silently, trying to keep my face blank and he rolled his eyes. "I see. Let's try this again. Why does Merle want me to let you go?" There was no way I was going to tell him anything about Daryl. Merle, for all his faults, clearly cared about Daryl and didn't want this guy to know about him, which meant he must be a significant danger to the group. 

I rasped, "Can I have some water?" and the Governor smiled benevolently. "Where are my manners?" He pulled a bottle of water from a cupboard and untied my hands so I could grasp it. I gulped greedily and downed almost the whole thing before he asked again. "Now that I've been hospitable, answer the question. What do you have over Merle?" I met his eyes and leaned forward slightly as if I was going to answer, before spitting the mouthful of water in his face. 

He shoved his chair back and stood quickly, sputtering and wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. "Bitch! If that's how you want to play it, fine. Either I'll make you talk or your friend will talk when she hears you scream. Either way, I win." 

He yanked me to my feet, pushing me toward the table until I felt it hit my lower back. I tried to fight him off but he called for his guard, who came in and wrapped his hands in a vice grip around my upper arms, pulling them back until I cried out in pain. The Governor stepped back and smiled at me, taking a knife off of the nearby desk. "I'm going to have fun with this." He stepped closer to me, then pulled my shirt out so it was taut and used the knife to rip it right down the front. It hung there in tatters as he surveyed his handiwork, before slipping the tip of the knife under the front of my bra and slicing through it. 

The guard's hands held me even tighter and his breathing picked up slightly with excitement. I wanted to vomit or scream, but I couldn't breathe deeply enough for either. The Governor put the tip of the knife under the button on my jeans and popped it off, and then cut them off of me along with my underwear, so they lay in strips on the floor, kicking off my boots at the same time. He cut the rest of my shirt and bra off and then stepped back and looked at me, shivering and humiliated in my nakedness. 

"Now," he began. "Would you like to start talking, or should I continue?" I blinked back tears and thought of my loved ones back at the prison. I wasn't sure when it had happened, but at some point, they had become a family to me, as close as the one I had left in Oregon. I couldn't betray them just because some asshole was going to hurt me, so I tried to stop shaking and find my voice. "You can do whatever you want," I said finally, "but I'll never tell you anything." 

He clucked his tongue and shook his head. "That's a shame because I'm pretty sure your little friend next door will, as soon as she hears your screams." My eyes flicked toward the wall, hoping that Maggie would stay strong on the other side. She must not have told him anything, or he wouldn't have bothered with me. 

The Governor pushed me back so I was laying on the low table. He dug the tip of his knife into the soft flesh of the top of my left breast, drawing blood, and then dragged down, carving a line down toward my breastbone. I started to scream but clamped my mouth shut so Maggie wouldn't hear. Blood trickled from the deep cut, making its way across the swell of my breast and down onto the table. 

I breathed through my nose and kept my teeth clenched against the pain, which didn't please him. He dug the tip of the knife into the thin skin of my temple and down toward my cheekbone so that blood ran into my right eye, but I refused to make any noise. 

"Not enough for you?" the Governor asked. "You don't break easily, I'll give you that much." He pushed my legs apart and shoved two fingers inside me. "Hmm. You don't seem to be very into this. I guess we're going to need a little lubrication." He held up the knife, then lowered it slowly, giving me plenty of time to realize what he was going to do. I braced myself for the pain, but as he slipped the knife inside me, I couldn't help screaming. It was like fire, searing deeply into me, as he shoved it in and drew it out, red with my blood. He set the knife carefully on the table, then looked down between my legs. 

"Yes, I think this is wet enough, don't you?" He unbuckled his belt and pants, while I writhed in pain against the grip of his guard. "Lay her back on the table," he barked, and I was shoved down until I was flat on my back. I could feel the blood running down my legs onto the floor, and I closed my eyes and willed myself to think about anything but that. I thought about the cool quiet woods, walking along in silence except for Daryl's quiet breathing next to me. I thought about lying under the stars and hearing him laugh softly. I thought about curling up against him on cold nights and being wrapped in a tight embrace while I cried for my children. 


	23. Rescue

A sharp crack of the door flying open jerked me from my trance, and I felt the arms pinning me down release, as the guard took a shot to the head and slumped to the floor. The Governor looked up, distracted, and I grabbed the knife he'd used on me without thinking. I swung it up toward him with all my strength and embedded it in his neck, ripping as hard as I could so it tore open his throat and blood poured out onto my bare chest. 

His hands came up to grab at his neck and his shocked gaze fell to me before he collapsed on the floor. I stood up, blood rushing in my ears, and crumpled to the ground next to his body as my legs gave out. I couldn't hear anything, or see anything except the figure lying in a pool of blood on the ground, though I dimly registered that there was another person in the room. I leaned over him and raised my hand with the knife, unable to think about anything except destroying him. I brought the knife down over and over into his head until someone grabbed my arm on the upswing, prying the knife from my hands. "He's dead, baby. He's dead," Daryl's familiar voice rasped, breaking my trance.

I wrapped my arms around my breasts and finally looked away from his body, meeting Daryl's piercing blue eyes. He'd taken off his outer shirt and wrapped it around my shoulders, and I pulled my arms through the sleeves, standing on shaking legs with his help. "Jesus, Ana" he breathed, buttoning it with clumsy fingers. "Fuck. I couldn't get here any faster. Did he . . . " he trailed off, looking down at the Governor's body, and at mine, blood running down the inside of my legs, and a broken half-sob ripped out of his chest as he crushed me to him. 

I was just numb, unable to believe that he was really there; that I wasn't still imagining things in order to stay sane. He loosened his hold and grabbed his bow, pulling me toward the door. "We gotta go," he growled, and I realized that there were shouts and gunshots coming from outside. "Maggie!" I gasped, coming out of my stupor. "She was next door!" "Glenn went for 'er," Daryl reassured me, "Merle told us where they were keeping you. He let Glenn go, gave him a truck, let us in." 

We emerged into a smoky corridor, and Daryl pulled me with him toward the sound of shouting. "Using the flashbangs for cover - we've gotta get through the woods on foot to the truck," he explained, as we exited the building and made our way through a courtyard. There were people running in every direction screaming, and in the chaos, I saw Rick and Oscar by an open gate, and Glenn and Maggie just ahead of us. 

Walkers were staggering in, drawn by the noise, and I wondered absently why it had been left open. A door flew open across the courtyard and two men in combat gear ran out toward the gate, aiming at Rick with automatic rifles. I didn't have time to scream before gunshots rang out, but it was the men who fell, and I saw Merle, standing on top of the wall next to the open gate, firing at the men he must have called friends until that moment.

Daryl slowed, staring at his brother, who met his eye and hopped down from the wall, moving toward us at a jog. He scanned his eyes over me as he got closer, and I saw him flinch slightly at the sight of me barefoot, wrapped only in Daryl's shirt and covered in blood. "Damn, Princess. I tried . . ." He didn't finish his thought but turned to Daryl. "Is he dead?" Daryl nodded, and Merle's face relaxed slightly. 

"Good. There's a truck just outside the gate with the keys in it. I'll hold them off here while you get as far away as you can. They don't know where you're at, and everyone here's gonna scatter when they find out he's gone." 

Daryl shook his head. "No! Come with us. Ya stay here, it's suicide." Merle's eyes flicked to me and back to Daryl and he sighed. "It's my fault, baby brother. I brought 'er here. I didn' know she really mattered until I saw she had yer knife, but by then it was too late. Let me do the right thing for ya, this one time." He wrapped an arm around Daryl's neck in a rough squeeze and then took off across the square to where more armed men had emerged from another building. 

Daryl hesitated slightly, then picked up his pace and met Rick at the gate. "Get in the truck! Keys are inside!" he yelled, and Rick hopped in the driver's seat just as Oscar took a bullet to the head and went down. Glenn was helping Maggie into the back, and Daryl boosted me up before following.

Rick pulled out quickly, tires spinning, and gunfire erupted again from behind the walls. I looked at Daryl, whose face was set in hard lines, jaw clenched. There was no chance Merle would survive against that, and Daryl knew it. He closed his eyes tightly for a second, and then opened them and looked down at me. 

I was sitting against the wall of the truck bed as it bumped along the rough road, with my legs curled up underneath me, arms wrapped around my torso, and Daryl's shirt. Blood was still trickling from between my bare legs and pooling onto the floor of the truck bed. Daryl slid closer to me, and carefully wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side and away from the hard metal that was jostling me at every bump.

I was having a hard time focusing on what was happening, but I could hear Daryl and Maggie talking urgently. “There’s so much blood,” Maggie was saying frantically. “Why is there so much blood?” I could hardly speak through the pain but managed to mumble, “He used a knife,” and heard Daryl swear his voice breaking.

Daryl sat behind me, propping me up, and Maggie pressed something between my legs, which sent pain searing through me. I screamed and tried to move away but Daryl held me in place. I could hear Maggie sobbing, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I have to slow the bleeding" while she pushed fabric inside me, pressing my thighs together to increase the pressure, and I lost consciousness from the pain.

I woke when Daryl carried me into the prison at a jog, yelling for Herschel. I heard the exclamations of Carol, Beth, and Carl, as we entered, Maggie completely breaking down, and Herschel's request for hot water and towels. Daryl set me on a hard surface and I felt Carol's gentle hands smooth over my forehead before I faded out again.


	24. Pain

_Oh, goddamn,_   
_My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand_   
_Taking mine, but it's been promised to another_

When I woke up, it was daylight and I was on the bed in the cell Herschel used for an infirmary. Beth sat next to me, giving the baby a bottle and humming quietly. She looked up when I stirred and smiled. "You're awake! I'll get Daddy." 

Herschel made his way into the cell on his crutches and sat heavily in the chair next to my bed. "How do you feel?" he asked. 

I grimaced. "Like hell. Everything hurts." He nodded. "I'll get you something for the pain." He paused, debating his next words, and then said, "He used a knife to violate you?" I closed my eyes against the memory and nodded. 

Herschel squeezed my hand and then pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Did he use anything else?" I shook my head 'no'. "He was going to, but Daryl shot his guard and then I . . . I got the knife and . . . " I couldn't finish the sentence but Herschel seemed to understand. 

"You did what needed to be done," he said simply. "Now for that pain medication," and he busied himself getting me some of his precious store of Vicodin. Once it kicked in, Carol brought me some soup and I managed to eat a few bites without getting nauseous, and even walk to the bathroom with her help, though the pain of urinating was excruciating.

Rick sat with me for a while and explained that Michonne had shown up at the prison shortly before Glenn arrived, and told them about the place called Woodbury where Maggie and I had been taken. Glenn was able to find the way back, with Michonne's help, and Merle was waiting for them outside at a place he'd told Glenn to meet him. He had gotten them inside and led them to where we were being held. Andrea had apparently been staying there, but no one had seen her since Woodbury fell. The only people I didn't see that day were Daryl, Maggie, and Glenn. Rick and Herschel had both assured me that they were okay, and that Maggie had escaped with just a few bruises.

I dozed throughout the day and was able to eat a little supper, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the moment the knife slid into the Governor's throat. I imagined my hand yanking it across his neck over and over, slicing it open, and releasing that river of blood. Someone had cleaned me up thoroughly, but I could picture the deep red of my hands as I got in the truck. I remembered my words to Daryl outside the barn when we’d been deciding Randall’s fate – “if we start killing the living, where do we stop?” When did I leave that behind? When I did I become someone who thought their own life was more valuable than someone else’s? I was firmly against the death penalty once, whatever the crime.

Herschel came to check on me before he headed to bed and gave me another dose of pain medication, leaving another pill with some water by the bed for later. "Is there anything you need?" he asked. I shook my head, "No. Just . . . have you seen Daryl?" Herschel sighed and scratched his beard. "That boy sat outside this room not sayin’ a word until he knew you’d make it, then spent the whole day on the fences, killin' walkers and avoidin' everyone. Should I tell him you're asking for him?" 

I bit the inside of my lip uncertainly but nodded. "It's okay if he's tired or something, but if not, maybe I could just see him really quick?" Herschel nodded and bid me goodnight before leaving the cell, and I waited in the dim light from the battery-powered lantern. 

I heard Herschel's voice from down the hall, but couldn't make out an answer, and Daryl didn't come. I turned on my side, wincing at the intense pain between my legs, even with the pain meds, and resigned myself to the fact that he must not want to see me. He might be processing what had happened with Merle, or just be exhausted. All the same, I was hurt that he hadn't at least checked on me, and a few tears slid onto the clean sheet beneath my cheek.

Someone cleared their throat and I looked up to find Daryl standing in the doorway. "Hey" I breathed, swiping my hand across my cheeks quickly. "Herschel said you were out at the fence all day." 

"Yeah," he muttered. "He said ya wanted to see me?" I nodded. "It's just . . . I wasn't sure why I didn't see you today. Are you okay?" His head jerked up at that, finally looking at me. 

"I'm not the one . . . " he swallowed hard and rubbed his hands over his face. "If I'd gotten there just a few minutes earlier he wouldna done that. An Glenn an Maggie an I thought we might be a reminder of what happened to you, so we stayed away." 

I was tired enough that I didn't have the energy to tiptoe around the tension with Daryl. "Well, that was completely unnecessary," I said. "You saved me before things could get any worse, Daryl. And seeing you is the only thing I wanted today." I flushed slightly, but Daryl didn't tense up or leave, just looked at me across the small cell and exhaled slowly, rubbing his thumb across his lower lip pensively. 

I shifted over in the bed, careful not to pull any stitches. "Do you think you could stay for a while?" I asked. "Just 'til I fall asleep?" Daryl hesitated, searching my face, before nodding and settling himself on the bed, clicking off the lantern. I thought he would try to leave space between us, but he turned toward me, slipped one arm under my neck, and draped the other one over my waist, careful not to jostle me. His face was inches from mine in the dark, and I traced one finger across his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose, and along his jawline before resting my head on his chest.

"I'm sorry about Merle" I whispered, and I felt him nod his head. "He did a good thing there at the end, maybe the firs' good thing he ever did, but if it wasn' for him you never woulda been there in the first place." He ran his thumb over my cheekbone and cupped the back of my head. "I couldn' save you," he said again softly. "I tried, but I was too late."

I pulled back slightly and looked at him in the dark. "Do you think I'm ruined, then?" I asked quietly, and Daryl jerked his head in shock. "What? No!" he said quickly, and I relaxed. "Then you weren't too late," I said, "So stop saying that. You found me and I'm still alive and I'll recover." I heard him draw in a breath, ready to argue, but I pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and he froze. I rested my head on his chest again and after a moment his steady breathing resumed and I dozed off. 

I woke in the middle of the night shaking because of the pain and nightmares, and Daryl grabbed the pill and water Herschel had left for me and pressed them into my hand. I gulped it down and waited in agony for it to kick in, tears leaking out of my eyes unbidden. Daryl just ran his hands through my hair and down my back, letting me cry and shake until the numbness stole through my body again, and I slept.


	25. Healing

When I woke up it was so early the room was still dim, and I could feel Daryl's chest rising and falling beneath my cheek as he slept. I took it as a sign that I hadn't overstepped, though he may just have been too exhausted to care. I tried to relax into sleep again, but someone opened a door in the hallway, and Daryl shifted under me as he awoke. I didn't want him to feel awkward without the cover of darkness, so I kept my eyes closed as he slipped out of the bed and laid my head on the pillow. 

I could hear him talking to Carol in the hall, who soon came in to check on me. She helped me to the bathroom, and then Herschel gave me the okay to move to my own cell for the rest of my recovery. I spent most of the day reading and holding the baby, who had finally been named Judith, or talking to Beth and Maggie. Maggie was clearly overwhelmed by guilt that she'd been right next door but unable to help so I told her about provoking the Governor intentionally, and that I'd rather it was me than her. She'd probably saved my life in the truck, by slowing the bleeding, and once we'd talked through everything and shed more than a few tears, I knew we'd get past it. 

Carol brought me dinner again and let me know with a small smile that Daryl was on the first watch. I tried to sleep, but without the distractions of the day, my mind would go back to relive the moment when I killed the Governor. Who was I now? I'd already lost much of my identity when I was separated from my family and my old life, and now I felt I'd drifted even further from my old self. I was still lying awake when Daryl's shift ended and he appeared in my doorway. "Hey," I whispered. 

"Why you still awake?" he grumbled. "Should be gettin' yer rest." I didn't know how to answer, but he shrugged off his vest and toed off his boots, and jerked his chin at me. "Move over," he whispered roughly, and I scooted myself against the wall so he could lie down. 

“Yer thinkin’ so loud I can hear it,” he muttered eventually, interrupting another cycle of thoughts. “I was just . . . thinking about how I didn’t think we should kill Randall,” I said finally. “How I didn’t believe in the death penalty, or that we _ever_ should decide when someone else lives or dies, if we’re good people. I used to write letters, go to protests . . . and then I just _decided_. And did it myself, more . . . more violently than I needed to. Because I _wanted_ to. I needed –“ 

A ragged sob caught in my throat and Daryl rolled toward me, sliding his hands up to cradle the back of my head, and pulling me into the hollow of his neck and shoulder. He didn’t try to stop me from crying or talk me out of feeling bad about it, just held me and let me sob. When I’d slowed to shuddering breaths, he finally spoke. “Yer still a good person,” he said quietly. “Good people have ta do things to survive, but they think about it, like yer doin’ now. It matters, even if ya had to do it. And ya did, you know. You protected Maggie, protected everyone here from whatever he woulda done. An I woulda killed him, if ya hadn’t. Wish I could’ve.” I could hear the guilt in his voice and hated it. 

"I wouldn't have wanted you to," I said honestly. "I know you had to kill a few people just to get to me, and you don't need more to deal with." He shook his head, "I don' think it's as bad when y'ain't doin' it ta save yourself. Don' like it, but I woulda killed however many it took." 

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you’re pretty good at it,” I said, lightening the mood. “And you’re right, he would’ve hurt other people if one of us didn’t kill him. I think I was just sheltered so much before, that I didn’t really understand how hard the choice is, sometimes. Or that there’s not even a choice. I mean I  _knew_ , I just didn’t  _know_ .” I could feel Daryl holding back a laugh, and I pinched his side. “Shush, you know what I mean.”

“Fer someone who talks a lot, sometimes ya ain’t very good at it,” he rumbled, “especially on Vicodin, and when ya should be sleepin’.” He wrapped his arms around me like the night before, and I realized that something had shifted between us as well, moving us to a new place where the rules had yet to be defined. 

_____________

The next few weeks proved that to be true, though Daryl and I hadn't talked at all about what had changed. He slept with me every night, and when I was recovered enough to take watch shifts, we were almost always scheduled together. It was easy to talk to him when we were out there at night, eyes scanning the fields and woods for any movement. He didn't do much talking, but I ran ideas by him for building a sustainable life at the prison, and he made suggestions occasionally. 

Every once in a while Daryl would share something about his past with me. Sometimes it was a funny story about Merle (which usually made me cringe internally) or a comment about his mom. He told me he'd gone back to Woodbury and found it deserted of people, and then had to put down Merle as a walker. He didn't look at me while he talked, but I slipped my hand into his and he gripped it tightly. 

He told me that Merle had wanted to rob the group when we joined them at camp, and that Daryl hadn't known what he was going to do. He didn't want to go along with it, but Merle was the only family he had, so he'd spent as much time away from camp as possible, trying to decide if he was going to stick with his brother or not. It was clear that he'd been carrying a lot of guilt about this for the past several months, and that with Merle's death came a sort of relief that Daryl felt conflicted about. He’d also gotten my knife and boots from Woodbury, which he handed me without comment, and I pushed away all thoughts of the room from which he’d retrieved them.

He showed me more constellations, though Sagittarius remained my favorite, and he eventually, after I bugged him enough, told me the legend of the famed archer who stood guard against the monsters, which I thought was quite apropos. I thought of those moments on the farm often and wondered what he'd been thinking about as we lay there. If I'd leaned over and kissed him, would he have kissed me back? Pushed me away? Pulled off my clothes and buried himself in me under the stars, the way I'd imagined in my tent later? 

The others in our makeshift family understood that Daryl and I weren't exactly "together" in any capacity, but that we were also important to each other in a way that we hadn't really figured out yet. My physical and psychological recovery from the assault meant that nothing was going to happen right away, but as I steadily improved I thought about it more and more.

I had taken my wedding ring off after Woodbury when I realized that I wasn't the same person that had left Oregon for a backpacking retreat almost a year ago. I was sure that if I ever got home, my husband would try his best to get back the marriage we'd had, but I didn't think it would work. He couldn't understand what I'd been through, and the ways I had changed. I hoped that he had found someone to partner with, and to be another support for my kids but even if he hadn't, I knew I wasn't his wife anymore. 

I often had nightmares about the Governor and would wake up shaking, or in the midst of a scream. Daryl never asked me about them, but would pull me closer to him, and trace soothing circles on my back until I calmed down and fell asleep. I think he had nightmares too, and would sometimes jerk suddenly awake after moving restlessly, but I'd lace my fingers through his as he slowed his breathing and it seemed to help. 

Every day brought us slightly closer together, and I trusted Daryl more deeply than I ever had with anyone before. I'd been forced to entrust him with my life, back at the trailer, and then repeatedly while on the road, but it had grown into something more. I trusted him with myself now, everything I was, and he hadn’t let me down each time I’d given him something more. 


	26. Complications

I assumed others had noticed my empty ring finger, but no one had commented. I wasn't sure how to start a conversation about it with Daryl that didn't send him running, so I waited for things to progress naturally, despite my almost constant sexual frustration lately.

In the meantime, we'd started taking in new folks to the prison. Some of the Woodbury people, who had never known about the Governor's true nature, were now living in the woods, helpless, so we cleared out more cell blocks and moved them in. Daryl spent a lot of time away from the prison hunting and was usually the one to bring people back after finding them on the road. It was good to have lots of help with the farming, keeping watch, reinforcing the fences, and the restoration of the rest of the prison that needed to happen, but sometimes I missed the days when it was just our original group.

I had healed physically fairly well, but the psychological scars extended beyond nightmares. I had a hard time being alone with any men who weren't Daryl, Herschel, Rick, or Glenn and my anxiety progressed to a full-blown panic attack one night when two Woodbury men ended up alone with me in the kitchen during dinner cleanup. Thankfully Carol walked in and recognized what was happening right as I was starting to hyperventilate, and was able to clear them out without too many questions. She called for Herschel, who tried to help me breathe through it, but it took a long time for me to calm down. 

The group never treated me like I was damaged though, just stepped in to make sure I didn't get into situations I couldn't handle and helped me work through it when I started to get overwhelmed. They were able to see that, despite the trauma, I was still capable and confident in my abilities. I was busy from dawn until dusk managing the day-to-day operations of the property, a leadership role I’d taken on after lengthy discussions with Rick. 

We had planted the yards with crops, which were coming along nicely under Herschel and Maggie's direction. Daryl had found a couple of milk goats and a buck, so we had milk and were experimenting with making cheese. Rick had found a litter of piglets with their mother in an abandoned farm and brought them back, and Daryl regularly brought back fresh meat from his hunting trips so we were able to get enough food on the table for everyone to have at least one good meal each day. Carol did a fabulous job keeping folks busy on laundry and cleaning duty, and between the two of us we'd set up an airtight chore schedule that kept everything in order.

The only downside to having so much to organize was that people were constantly asking me to make decisions, explain things to them, tell them what to do next, or weigh in on a discussion. I loved it most of the time, and I felt like I was finally doing something I was good at, but by the end of the day, I just wanted to stop thinking. I flopped down on the bed one night next to Daryl in exhaustion, groaning, and threw my arm over my face. 

"If one more person asks me a question, I'm going to scream" I muttered. "I need to just . . . need to not be in charge for two seconds." Daryl shifted, and then said, an edge of humor in his voice. "Hmm. Ya want me to boss you around?" 

I wasn't quite ready for the rush of arousal that came with those words. I had found myself more and more turned on around Daryl lately, as the attack from the Governor faded, and my attraction to him grew, but the thought of his gravelly voice giving me orders in bed hardened my nipples immediately, and I could feel myself getting wet. 

I inhaled shakily, not wanting to scare him off. "Sure, you can run things in here," I said, trying unsuccessfully to keep my voice light. "Just don't tell anyone I like being bossed around, or they'll never listen to me again." Daryl's voice dropped slightly. "Fine," he said huskily. "From now on yer in here by 9:00 unless you've got watch. No socks in bed. And you sleep against the wall." 

I nodded, knowing Daryl could tell even though it was dark. "Okay." I slipped off my socks, and Daryl climbed over me so I was against the wall. The fabric of my shirt rubbed against my nipples, and I bit my lip. My core ached, and I didn't know how I was going to lie next to him all night without touching him. 

I wasn't sure if Daryl felt the sexual tension as well, but he didn't pull me against him like normal, and after a moment he stood up. "Gonna take a piss" he muttered and left the cell. I quickly slipped my fingers under my waistband and down into the slick heat between my legs. My clit was throbbing, and I circled it quickly, twisting my nipple with my other hand. It didn't take long before I felt my orgasm build, and took myself over the edge as fast as possible, worried Daryl would come back too soon. He took his time in the bathroom though, and I had a chance to come down from my climax and wipe my sticky fingers on the sheet in between the mattress and the wall. 

Daryl slid back into bed and shifted me closer to him in our usual position. I could smell sex on my fingers, but if he could he didn't indicate it, and after a few moments I relaxed and drifted to sleep. 

________________

I was writing out the menus for the next few days and making a list of things we needed the next afternoon when one of the newcomers approached me on the picnic tables outside. "Are you Ana?" he asked. When I nodded he continued, "I'm Ben, and those are my kids over there, Julie and Sam." He was well-built and handsome, with a wide smile and deep brown eyes that I was sure had won over more than a few hearts.

"It's nice to meet you Ben," I said with a smile, looking back at my list. "I hope you guys are settling in okay." "Oh yes," he said fervently. "We are so thankful to have a place here after being on the road. And you are just doing an incredible job keeping everything going like this."

"Well, it's a group effort," I responded, and he shook his head. "No. I mean, yes, everyone pitches in but you're definitely the brains behind the operation and it's really impressive. Carol mentioned that you're a lawyer?"

I laughed, "I used to be. Not something that really matters these days."

"I don't know," he said. "I think who we used to be is important. I worked for an investment company in Manhattan and not a day goes by that I don't think about that life. I'm trying to hold on to the person I was, even in the midst of this horror."

I shrugged, "I'm not sure we all have that luxury though. You guys were at Woodbury, right? That means you were pretty protected. Some of us spent most of the past year on the road."

"You're right," he sighed. "And I didn't mean it as a criticism. I just really admire what you're doing, and I think it's okay to remember who we were and try to hold onto part of that, especially when we're living in a community like this."

I nodded. "Maybe you're right," I said. "We're all just trying to figure this out and I'm not sure there’s any one correct answer." 

Ben caught up with me again at dinner, dropping down in the seat across from me. Daryl and Rick were deep in conversation on my right, and Ben leaned in to talk over the din. "So, have you ever been to New York?"

I was caught off guard and laughed uncomfortably. "Wow. Yeah, I just hadn't thought about that in ages. I've been a few times, actually."

"Yes!" Ben smiled at me across the table. "I figured you'd been there at some point." He pressed me for details on what I'd done, and when he found out I'd seen some shows on Broadway he gushed about all his favorites and asked me which ones I'd seen, restaurants I'd been to, people I knew. The conversation was somewhat surreal, and not entirely enjoyable for me. I felt like that life was a distant memory, and I couldn't see why it mattered whether I'd seen _Wicked_ with the original cast or not. As soon as I could, I excused myself to oversee dinner cleanup and tried to forget about it.

I was supposed to be on watch with Daryl for the first shift of the night, but Michonne showed up in his place and said he'd asked her to take over for him without giving a reason. I didn't know Michonne well yet, but she reminded me of Daryl in some ways - cautious, intimidating, and closed off, but fiercely loyal; intelligent, and perceptive once you were trusted. I told her about the odd conversation with Ben and she nudged me teasingly. "Sounds like flirting to me," she said.

I wrinkled my nose. "Um, no. At least, I don't think so? Actually, I have no idea. I was married for 14 years and then the world ended, so I'm not really tuned into the norms of mating rituals." She laughed softly. "Well, I'm pretty sure it's flirting. But he's obviously barking up the wrong tree if so. I mean, you aren't exactly available, right?"

I shook my head. "Well, I'm definitely not interested. But I don't really consider myself married anymore."

Michonne turned to face me. "That wasn't what I was talking about. Aren't you and Dixon . . . something?"

I didn't know how to answer. "Not anything that’s defined. I'd like to be but, for lack of a less cliche phrase, 'it's complicated'. I still want to go back to Oregon if this ever ends, to try and find my family. And Daryl promised my husband and kids he'd get me back there. I think the fact that he did that makes him think that it would be wrong to have some kind of relationship with me beyond friends. Or maybe I'm reading it all wrong - he's not exactly forthcoming with his feelings."

Michonne snorted, "You don't say?" After a moment she pressed, "But you are more than friends, right? I mean, I'm pretty sure you share a cell."

"Yeah,” I admitted. "I've slept next to him for months, and it's hard to sleep if he's gone. But that's it - just sleep. In some ways, though, I think that's almost more intimate than a hookup or something for him. It's pretty vulnerable to totally relax around someone, at least if you're a guarded person like Daryl."

Michonne nodded, and I wondered if she was the same way. "Well for the record, I hope you figure it out. Dixon can piss me off sometimes but he's a good guy and he deserves some happiness. Plus, getting laid regularly would probably make him less of a cranky bastard." 

I walked up the stairs after my shift and found Daryl was sleeping in his old perch. I hoped it wasn't because of the night before, but figured I'd survive one night on my own, even if I had to deal with a few nightmares, and I could talk to him about it the next day. He was probably getting up early to hunt and needed his sleep anyway. 


	27. Distance

I didn't see Daryl for most of the next day, as he'd gone out hunting and didn't get back until dinnertime. I tried to sit near him but he was already at a full table, so I dropped down next to Carol and groaned internally when Ben took the seat across from me again. 

I ate as quickly as possible, but Ben had another barrage of questions about TV shows, of all things, and podcasts that he had loved. I hated to be rude, but I just could not care less about Season 1 of _Serial_ at this point, relevant as it may have been in my previous life. At the same time, I knew he was just trying to talk to me about things that I used to be passionate about, and I couldn't bring myself to totally shut him down. 

Daryl disappeared after dinner and I took over on Judith duty so Beth could get a break. I saw him headed up to the guard tower as the sun went down and realized he must have traded shifts with Michonne so that he could have last night off. I tossed and turned, trying to fall asleep until I heard his boots slowly ascending the stairs. 

A few minutes passed before I realized he wasn't going to come to bed and I debated going to find him. It felt ridiculous to admit that I couldn't sleep just fine on my own, but his sudden absence was concerning. We hadn't had any disagreement, as far as I knew, and Daryl wasn't the passive-aggressive type. If he'd been mad about something he would have let me (and anyone else around) know about it. The most likely possibility was that he'd been scared off by what happened the other night and I needed to show him that things didn't need to change if he didn't want them to.

After running through all the possibilities in my head, I decided to talk to him, so I slipped on my shoes and stepped onto the catwalk. Daryl was crashed on the landing at the top of the stairs again, and it looked like he was sound asleep. I couldn't bring myself to wake him, so I headed outside and told Carol I couldn't sleep and I'd take over her shift with Rick. 

Rick and I kept watch in relative silence for a couple of hours, one of us leaving at each hour mark to walk the perimeter and look for anything out of the ordinary. After his second round, I decided to broach the subject of Daryl with him. Rick and I didn't usually talk about personal issues, but he spent more time with Daryl than anyone besides me and was often a good sounding board. 

"Have you noticed anything bothering Daryl lately?" I asked. "He's acting a little . . . off . . . for lack of a better word, and I haven't had an opportunity to talk to him about it." 

Rick smiled, "I was going to ask you the same thing. He's grouchier than usual, but I don't know why and I thought maybe something had happened with you." 

"Not that I know of," I admitted. "I honestly haven't seen him for more than a couple of minutes in the past two days though, and he's . . . sleeping on the landing again and I'm worried I said something the other night that freaked him out." I'd never talked about our sleeping arrangement with Rick, and I felt my cheeks redden. Lori's betrayal had affected him a lot, and I hoped he didn't see this as the same thing. The pale strip of skin where my wedding ring had sat felt like it glowed in the dark, but Rick changed the subject.

"What do you think of this Ben guy?" he asked. I wasn't sure where this was headed but answered honestly. "Um, I'm not sure. He seems nice enough, I guess, but a little naive. Keeps talking about stuff that doesn't matter anymore but maybe it's just his way of coping. He's kept his kids alive at least, though I think that's only because they came across Woodbury pretty quickly." 

Rick nodded. "He seems to like you a lot. Any chance that's what's bothering Daryl?" I jerked my head toward him but he didn't look at me. "Why would it bother him? I'm pretty sure the guy's harmless and I haven’t done anything to indicate I’m interested." 

Rick sighed and finally turned to meet my eyes. "I don't know the details of your relationship with Daryl, but I've seen enough to know that he cares about you deeply and that it scares him. I think he'll get over the fact that you're still married, but I'm not sure he knows what to do about being jealous of someone who's right here and clearly interested in you." 

"Maybe you're right," I said after a moment. "But I don't think I've ever acted like I was interested in Ben, or that Daryl’s even been around much when we were talking. I try to get out of our conversations as quickly as possible, but he tends to corner me at meals. I think it's more likely that I did something Daryl's uncomfortable with, but I'll try to talk to him about it I guess." 

Rick laughed. "Good luck with that" he teased, and I rolled my eyes. "Thanks. I'll need it."


	28. Frustration

Daryl was nowhere to be found at breakfast but showed up to gather a group for a run to a nearby town shortly afterward. We were low on formula, and I'd asked if they could look for some bulk spices and salt the next time they were at a grocery store. I often went along, especially for specific things I needed for food prep, but Herschel had asked me and Maggie to help him inventory the medical supplies, for a pharmacy run later in the week. Glenn and Daryl took some of the Woodbury folks with them instead, including Ben. 

I enjoyed spending the morning with Herschel and Maggie and was reminded again of how much the larger group exhausted me. I loved the mission of our community, building a life for folks in the middle of an apocalypse, but at the end of the day, I wanted to just sit with the ones I considered family, and forget about everyone else. 

We'd finished up our list of medical supply requests when we heard the vehicles returning to the prison yard and went outside to see what they'd brought back. Daryl jumped out of the driver's seat of our box truck and grabbed his crossbow before storming past us into the prison. Glenn followed more slowly, and I saw Ben and the others climb out of the back of the truck and begin unloading boxes. "What happened?" Maggie asked Glenn worriedly and he shook his head, confused. 

"I'm not sure. I went with Ben to get formula and he decided to check another shelf, which was fine. I had a close brush with a walker though, and I guess Daryl thought Ben should have stayed with me. He totally lost it and punched him." 

We all looked to where Ben was carrying a bag of supplies toward the kitchen and sure enough, the left side of his face was puffy and red, well on its way to a black eye. Maggie narrowed her eyes in his direction. "Remind me to thank Daryl later," she said, and Glenn shook his head. "Seriously, it wasn't that big of a deal. He was just trying to help and happened to step away at the wrong time." Maggie wasn't listening, but Glenn was clearly fine and I thought Daryl had probably overreacted. 

I went to the kitchen to help put away the supplies and found Ben unpacking some spices. "Hey there," I said, taking the bag from him. "Looks like you guys found some great stuff." He looked up at me and I could see his eye was beginning to swell shut so I dug through the cupboards for some arnica salve I'd made. "You should probably have Herschel take a look at that," I said. "For now, put this on." 

Ben shook his head and closed his eyes as he unscrewed the jar and began dabbing the greasy concoction on his injury. "I know he's useful, but that redneck asshole is also a danger to everyone in this group." Before I could answer, another box of dry goods was dropped onto the countertop next to me and I spun around to find Daryl already heading back for the door. Ben's eyes flew open and he exhaled sharply. "Well, that's not going to help. I think I need to talk to Rick about him. My kids shouldn't see folks in charge behave like that." 

I put the jar of salve back in the cupboard and slammed it shut. "You don't know a damn thing about Daryl," I said, voice shaking in anger. "He's the reason we're all still alive, and if you put Glenn in danger because you don't understand how to have someone's back out there, you deserved a lot more than a black eye." I walked away from Ben's shocked face, looking for the familiar wings on Daryl's vest amongst the group outside but he was nowhere to be found. 

I eventually tracked him down in the outbuilding we'd repurposed as a space for car repair, tinkering with a motorcycle he'd been working on. "Sounds like it got a little dicey out there," I ventured. "I guess some of these Woodbury folks need more training before we let them protect our own." Daryl shrugged without looking up at me, and I couldn't think of how to bridge the gap that had developed between us. 

I moved closer and reached out to put my hand on his arm. "Daryl," I started, but he jerked his arm free and moved around to the other side of the bike. "Jesus woman, can't you see I'm busy," he growled. "Don' feel like talkin' about shit that already happened. Go patch up that douchebag and leave me alone." 

I shook my head. "I just told _that douchebag_ that he deserved more than a black eye for putting Glenn in danger and talking about you like that, so I'd rather not, thanks." He looked up at that, but just shook his head and went back to tinkering. "S'fine. Don' need you to defend me, and neither does Glenn. You get that list from Herschel?" The quick subject change prevented any further discussion, so I gave him the list and turned to leave. 

I hesitated in the doorway. "Will I see you tonight?" I asked tentatively, looking at his head bowed over the bike. He grunted noncommittally and I waited for a moment but he didn't offer anything else or look at me, so I walked slowly back to the kitchen, my stomach in knots. 


	29. Hurt

The next few days didn't improve things between me and Daryl. We didn't have watch scheduled together, and he didn't come to my cell at night. He was never alone, which was unusual for him, so I couldn't even try to have a conversation about what was bothering him. 

Ben had apologized sincerely for what he'd said about Daryl, and I'd reluctantly forgiven him. Unfortunately, he seemed to show up wherever I was, offering to help or just wanting to chat. He was smart and funny and nice, but I could feel my patience running out. I didn't want to discuss the past, and I didn't want to connect with him, but several Woodbury women had been giving me knowing looks when they saw us together and I knew I needed to be more direct with him soon, so he didn't get the wrong idea.

I wasn't sleeping well and was thankful that my days were relatively routine. I got crews started with some weeding, and then took a few minutes to sit with Beth and Judith on the grass in the shade of the quickly growing corn. Judith was growing fast, and starting to roll over already, and I loved spending time with her. 

I was on my belly, cooing at her when Daryl's name caught my attention. Two women from Woodbury were walking through the corn a couple of rows over, talking. The one I was pretty sure was named Dani giggled, "That rough-around-the-edges guy is exactly my type, you know. Basically like every guy in my high school, only hotter. He looked like he could use a little stress release so I went into the showers after him and offered it." 

I closed my eyes, hardly breathing, as her friend gasped. "You are shameless!" Dani just laughed. "Why? There's nothing wrong with a little mutual pleasure, especially after I saw that body. I’m meeting him tonight after dinner – maybe you should come with me; pretty sure he’d go for a threesome." Their voices drifted away as they moved down the row, and I felt my stomach twisting at the sympathetic look in Beth's eyes. 

I sprinted toward the prison and made it around the corner from the kitchen before losing my breakfast in the bushes. Beth was behind me, holding Judith on her hip and rubbing my back but I couldn't look at her. Carol came out the door and looked at me with concern. "Are you sick?" she asked. I shook my head. "Just came on suddenly. Must have been something I ate." Beth's face must have told Carol to let it go because she just patted my arm and encouraged me to lie down in my cell. 

The last thing I wanted to do was be alone with my thoughts, so I took a sharpened stick and went to do fence duty instead, losing myself in the repeated motion of shoving the point through the skull of a walker until my arms ached. 

I skipped dinner, patrolling the perimeter and debating whether I should switch off of my watch shift that night with Daryl. I felt sick every time I thought about what he was doing after dinner with her. Did he kiss her? Fuck her? Go down on her? Was he going to crawl into her bed tonight? _Was_ he into a threesome? How had I missed that he was interested in someone else? 

His distance from me finally made sense. He obviously hadn't wanted me to know and was trying to push me away gently, rather than hurting my feelings. He must have realized I'd been turned on the other night and thought he needed to make some things clear. I felt like a complete idiot, and pathetic for having assumed Daryl would only be interested in me. I knew I hadn't imagined everything between us, but maybe it wasn't enough. Maybe it just seemed too complicated to take it any further. I couldn't blame him for wanting a relationship that didn't come with kids and husband waiting thousands of miles away, or nightmares, scars, and panic attacks. Or maybe not wanting a relationship at all – just ‘mutual pleasure’ with no complications, like Dani had said.

I decided I'd have to face Daryl at some point, so it might as well be on watch. We didn't need to talk, after all, and if I could just last until the shift was over, I could fall apart afterward in my cell where no one would notice. 

I headed to the guard tower at 8:00 and found Daryl was already there, pacing. I didn't say anything, but my stomach ached when I saw his face and I turned toward the window quickly. I scanned the fences with the night vision binoculars and tried to focus on the tree line and not think about what he'd been doing. 

Daryl didn't say anything but I could feel him looking at me as time wore on and I didn't speak. This was usually when I talked the most, even if it was just about Judith's latest development, or my most recent experiment with fermenting vegetables. I just focused on breathing normally and counting the seconds until I could leave.

"You feel okay?" He finally asked. "Carol said ya were sick earlier." 

"M'fine," I managed, around the lump in my throat, but didn't trust myself to say anything else. 

Several more minutes passed before he tried again. "Somethin' botherin' you? Usually, I can't shut ya up."

I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the cool glass, willing myself not to cry. "I said I'm fine," I repeated and I felt him take a step closer. 

"Ya mad about me hittin' Ben?" he finally said and I closed my eyes and took in a shaky breath, shaking my head 'no'. He let a few seconds tick by and asked again, "Well yer obviously upset about somethin'. Someone say somethin' to ya?" 

I couldn't stop the tears from rolling down my cheeks, but kept myself from making any noise and moved further away from him to prevent him from seeing my face. I wrapped my arms around myself, pressing tightly against the ache in my stomach, and silently pleaded with whoever was listening that he'd leave me alone. 

No such luck. He came to stand directly next to me and I knew he could see the tear tracks in the moonlight. His voice softened. "Hey. If somebody's botherin' ya, tell me who it is and I'll take care of it. If ya had another panic attack or somethin', we should tell Herschel." 

I pressed my palms to my eyes, trying to stop myself from crying, and took a deep breath. I knew if he touched me I'd fall apart, so I took a shaky breath. "I'm going to go check the fences," I choked out, and left before he could respond. I took my time, breathing the cool night air deeply, and pulling myself together. By the time I finished my round I had reconciled myself to the fact that I couldn't last the entire shift with him, so I went inside and woke Carol up. I told her I still wasn't feeling well and asked her to take the rest of my shift.

I cried myself to sleep, muffling any sobs in my pillow, and drifted off in exhaustion, after making sure I had locked the cell door so Daryl couldn't check on me when he came in. 


	30. Release

I could tell Daryl was trying to get me alone the next day to question me about the night before, but I kept myself around other people and he eventually left for the pharmacy run so I could relax. I could see Beth and Carol giving me worried glances, and I was pretty sure Beth had told her what we'd overheard. 

When the group got back, I was weeding the carrots with Carl's help. The kitchen windows were open and I could hear Daryl's gravely voice greet Beth. "Ya know where Ana is?" he asked. Beth retorted, "Maybe you should leave her alone, Daryl Dixon," and I could tell Daryl was caught off guard by her tone. "So ya know what's botherin' her, then?" he finally replied, but the only response he got was the door banging as she left and walked into the garden, meeting my eyes and giving me a small smile. 

I wondered how long it would take before the whole group knew about my humiliating breakdown but I couldn't blame Beth for being protective. Rick's voice came through the kitchen window as he asked Daryl to look at a spot in the fence he thought needed reinforcing, and I went back to focusing on the job at hand. 

Rick and Daryl stayed busy with the fences, and I was able to join the dinner prep crew and choke down some food without any awkward conversations. The evening chores kept my attention until all of the Woodbury folks had made their way to their cell blocks and it was just Carol and I finishing breakfast prep. As she wiped down the counters she spoke quietly. "You should talk to him." 

I willed away the now-familiar tears and shook my head. "I can't. He didn't do anything wrong and I'm not mad at him. I just didn't know, and it caught me off guard." She sighed. "I disagree. I don't know what happened between them, but even if it was nothing, just leading her on was wrong, because you two obviously have a relationship on some level. Quite frankly, I think both of you need to deal with this, for everyone's sake, because you two are a big part of our family." 

She looked at me seriously. "You’re good together, and we all thought you'd eventually get things figured out. I know it's complicated, and I think you were wise not to rush into anything but you can't let him do this. It's not what he wants, not really, and I don't want to see you both miserable." 

I groaned in frustration. "Carol, I can't assume I know what he wants because he won't tell me! And I really doubt he's told anyone else, so let's not pretend like it's obvious. We were in a traumatic situation together for a very long time, and maybe that's all it was. Maybe now that we can relax a little, he's realized he wants something different. I've got a lot of baggage, and I can't expect him to take that on just because he felt something for me for a while." 

She shook her head and walked toward the door, but threw me a final thought before she left. "He's got baggage too; you know that. We all do, and we need someone who understands that about us and can help us carry it." 

I continued to dawdle until everyone had gone to bed, and then made my way up to my cell slowly, lost in thought. I pushed back the curtain that hung over my doorway, stopping short when I saw Daryl sitting on the lower bunk, pulling off his boots. "What are you doing?" I asked quietly, and he shrugged. "Didn' seem like you were gonna talk to me any other time," he said stubbornly. 

"Daryl, I can't do this," I said, turning to leave. He crossed the tiny space in an instant, blocking the doorway, and crossed his arms. "Nuh uh. You got a problem with me, yer gonna tell me and stop this avoidance shit." 

I was suddenly furious at him for acting like this was all on me. "Avoidance shit?" I whispered furiously. "What the fuck were you doing a few days ago when you switched off of your watch with me? Why have you slept in your perch since then? Don't put that on me." 

He rubbed his hands over his face in frustration and seemed to have made a decision. "Fine. Ya wanna be pissed at me for tellin' some bitch she could blow me in the shower, be my guest. But that's me, remember? I'm a lowlife redneck asshole, and this?" he gestured between us, "this doesn't make sense. Me and someone like her hookin' up? _That_ makes sense. You and that shithead Ben? _That_ makes sense. We're from different worlds and we need to stop pretendin'." 

I was pretty sure others could hear bits of our whispered argument but at that point, I didn't care. "People change Daryl! I am not the same person whose car broke down near your trailer, and you're sure as hell not the same guy I met that day. We're different people now, but it's like you don't see that at all. I just want you to see _me_ for once, not who I used to be!" 

Daryl was practically vibrating with tension and seemed ready to bolt. "Don't _see_ you? Are you fucking kidding me?" he growled. "You're _all_ I see, all the goddamn time! I couldn't even get a fuckin' blow job, because I couldn't stand the thought of being' with anyone else. I just need you out of my head for two seconds so I can think straight -" but he cut himself off and his mouth was on mine before he finished the thought, hard and needy. I gripped his shirt and pulled him into me further, responding with just as much fervor. I'd wanted to taste his mouth for months, imagined it all over my body as I lay next to him at night, and I couldn't get enough. 

He ran his hands down my back, cupping my ass and pulling me up to wrap my legs around his waist. He rocked into me, teeth nipping at my jaw and down my neck. "Oh fuck," I breathed, pressing my hips against him and relishing the sensation of having his hard length against my aching core. I ran my hands under his shirt, feeling the muscles of his back and the uneven lines of his scars. He brought his mouth back to meet mine but carried us to my bunk and laid me on my back, settling himself between my legs. I was already unbuttoning his shirt clumsily, pushing it off his shoulders while he tugged mine up and over my head. 

He paused, breathing heavily, and looked down at me, the lamplight casting shadows on his face. He dropped softer kisses to the swell of my breasts, and I arched my back so he could unclasp my bra. The scar that ran along the curve of my left breast was still a purple-red raised line, and I wondered if I should have kept it covered. But Daryl just kissed along it softly, and then drew my taut nipple into his mouth, scraping slightly with his teeth before swirling his tongue around it. 

I whimpered, arching my back and I felt him groan quietly against my skin before moving his attention to the other breast. I tried to keep quiet, but I'd wanted this for so long I felt dizzy with need. "Daryl, please," I whispered, pressing my hips into his. He kissed down my stomach to my naval before unbuttoning my pants and tugging them down along with my soaked panties. I kicked them off and fumbled with his belt, but he stood and did it himself, dropping his pants to the floor and covering my body with his own again. 

He drew his fingers through the wet heat of my folds, gathering moisture until he reached my swollen clit, and worked it gently, building heat and tension with every stroke until I was trembling and holding back breathless whines. I could feel him, hard and ready between my legs, but he looked at me carefully, still holding himself up on his elbows, and whispered, "Ya sure?" I nodded. "I've been sure for a long time," I confessed, "but I don't have a condom." Daryl shook his head, "Don' need one, took care a that a while ago," he said, and after a slight pause I nodded, trusting him, and he let out a shaky breath and kissed me again, pushing into me slowly. 

It had been a really, really long time since I'd been with anyone, and I felt myself stretching as Daryl filled me, his lips shifting to my neck. I exhaled, relishing the slight pain mixed with pleasure, and rocked my hips against him once he was fully sheathed inside me. "Jesus," he muttered against my skin, "You’re gonna kill me." Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through me, and the sensation of finally having him inside me was overwhelming.

I ran my hands through his hair and tugged him back up to my face, nipping at his bottom lip before slipping my tongue into his mouth. He kissed back hungrily and slipped a hand between our bodies, to circle my clit again with his finger. He swallowed my cry of pleasure with his open mouth and hummed a quiet "shhh", but I was almost lost in the sensation of the tremors taking over my body. I'd been waiting for this for so long that I was at the brink of my climax in no time at all.

His pace picked up, and I tumbled over the edge of my orgasm, my walls spasming around his cock. I buried my cries in his neck as his thrusting sped up until he came with a harsh "Fuck!" muffled by the pillow, and collapsed on top of me. 

We lay there, breathing heavily, until he rolled off me and grabbed my towel from the hook on the wall, cleaning me up gently before putting out the light and lying back down next to me. "You okay?" he murmured softly, and I nodded. "So much better than okay," I said, laying my head on his chest. I listened to his breathing slow, fully relaxed for the first time in ages, and felt myself drifting off. I knew we needed to talk, but I was too exhausted, emotionally and physically. His hand ran up and down my back softly, reassuring me that he wasn't going to pull away from me again, and I drifted off to sleep. 


	31. Understanding

I awoke in the middle of the night to Daryl trailing his fingers across my chest, circling my nipples until they hardened into peaks. I ran my fingers down his jaw, and traced his lips in the dark, and he pressed a kiss to my clavicle. 

"How long?" he asked? "How long what?" I responded sleepily. "Ya said you'd been sure for a long time. How long?" he repeated, and I hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know," I began, and then stopped. "No, that's not true. It was on the farm, though I tried to resist it because I felt really guilty. Am I a terrible person? I was pretty judgmental of Lori, but I'd only been away from my husband for a month or so when I started dreaming about you."

He sucked gently on my neck and looked at me, face inches away in the dark. "No. S'different. Ya didn' do any'thin about it an' ya weren't supposed ta be grievin' a dead husband. And over month spendin' so much time together, with all the shit we were going through, felt like a year." 

"How about you?" I asked quietly. He slid down to kiss my stomach and the soft underside of my breasts and I could feel him smile. "Wanted ta bend you over the hood of yer car in those heels," he said bluntly. 

I tried unsuccessfully to hold in a laugh. "But you thought I was an uptight liberal snob!" 

Daryl shrugged. "Doesn' mean I didn't wanna fuck ya anyway." He ran his fingers down between my legs, spreading the wetness there up and down my slit, drawing a moan from my lips. 

"Fair enough," I said breathlessly. "I actually took a picture of you that day and sent it to my friend because I thought you were hot. But how long, really? I mean, not just because you were horny." He pushed two fingers into me slowly, then a third, and I whimpered but didn't let him off the hook. "You must know." 

He sighed, "At the farm, when I tried to get away from everybody. Shoulda been pissed off when you wouldn't leave me alone but I wanted you there, even if it meant I couldn't sleep 'cuz I was so fuckin' hard thinkin' about what I wanted to do to ya in that damn tent. And even when I was pissed at ya ‘bout Randall, after Dale I couldn' stop thinkin' about what would happen if I lost you. That's why I cut yer hair."

He shifted further down my body, pushing my knees up gently so he could lower his face to blow softly on my soaked center. "Ya think about this, sometimes?" he asked and licked the length of my slit, circling my clit with his tongue until I writhed underneath him. "Yes!" I moaned breathlessly, too aroused to worry about the scars I knew were there. "God, I wanted you to touch me so bad that night we were talking about the stars and tattoos. And I almost kissed you when you were cutting my hair." I gripped the bars of my headboard while he tortured me with his tongue. "Fuck, Daryl!" I half-moaned. "I can't be quiet!" 

He laughed quietly, barely pausing in his ministrations. "Not really my problem," he murmured, lowering his head again. I grabbed a pillow and clamped it over my mouth, as he gripped my hips tightly to keep me from moving. It was almost unbearable, torturous pleasure, as he drew me to the brink of a climax over and over and then backed off, licking and kissing my inner thighs. I wanted it so badly, but I was unexpectedly turned on by this dominant part of him, and let myself submit to his control of my body.

Eventually, he pulled the pillow from my face and kissed me, letting me taste myself on his lips. "Ya need ta come, baby?" he asked, I nodded, a tear of frustration slipping down my cheek, and he licked it up. "Mmmm. Ya think you can be quiet?" I nodded quickly and he dropped his head to my ear to whisper, "I think you're a liar," before moving back down my body. This time he didn't let up, licking steadily around and over my clit, pulling me up to an incredibly high peak before I climaxed with a scream that I barely muffled with the pillow. 

I was pretty sure anyone who was awake in our cellblock knew what was happening, but I couldn't possibly care at that moment. Daryl thrust inside and fucked me, pulling me to another orgasm within minutes, and tumbling over the edge of pleasure himself shortly afterward. 

He pulled me into him, combing his fingers through my hair while I came down from the shuddering high. “I’ve never . . . let someone else take control like that,” I whispered. “I didn’t know I wanted to.” "I knew you would," he murmured. "When you told me ya wanted me to boss ya around in here." I flushed at the memory. 

"Yeah, I got turned on pretty quickly when you started talking about giving me orders," I confessed, “which kind of caught me off guard.” Daryl bent down to kiss me deeply again and then dropped his lips to my ear. "I figured that out when I came back from jerkin' off and could smell your pussy," he whispered. I gasped and he laughed quietly, "You really thought I just went to take a piss?" he chuckled, and I nodded.

Daryl laid on his back and I turned to look at him in the dark. "Was that why you started avoiding me?" I asked quietly. 

He shook his head. "Nah. I'd known we were gonna get there eventually, been lyin' next to ya for months, hard as a rock most of the time so I was more'n ready, jus' didn' know if you were, after everything you'd been through. But the next day that guy Ben started talkin' to ya about all the stuff you've done, yer old life, and I jus' realized you should be with someone like that, not a redneck who's never even been outta Georgia." 

I traced patterns on his chest while I listened. Daryl didn't often share his innermost thoughts, but he had a way of opening up at exactly the right time. "I don't want to be with someone like that," I said firmly. "I hate it when he talks about all that stuff. Even if we get out of this eventually, I can't go back to a life like that. And to be honest, most of that stuff I've done was because of the family I married into. My own family didn't ever have the money to eat out, or travel, or go to the theater. When I got married I changed and learned to enjoy those things, but I can't imagine finding meaning in them now." 

Daryl ran his hand up and down my back absentmindedly. "What about yer husband?" he said finally. "Ya took yer ring off, but I know ya still want to get home if we can. What happens then?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I know I won't go back to him, but I don't know how we'll figure everything out. But we're both reasonable people, and our kids come first. Maybe he's moved on too, and it'll be fine. Or maybe he hasn't, and it'll be awkward. Either way, our marriage is over and we'll need to figure out a way to move forward."

Daryl didn't say anything, so I cautiously pressed on. "Would you . . . would you come to Oregon if we ever get out of here?" 

He turned to look at me. "I told ya I would get ya home, didn' I?" 

I nodded. "Yes, but . . . would you stay?" 

He looked back at the underside of the bunk above us. "Ya think that'd work? Me in yer old life?"

"It would be you in a new life with me, blending some of my old life in, I guess. I don't know. We'd have to figure it out as we went. And maybe others in the group would come too, depending on what it's like if we get out."

"Maybe," Daryl murmured but didn't give me any more of an answer before we drifted back to sleep. 


	32. Loose Ends

We slept in, only waking up when the corridors filled with morning noise. I realized I should have been downstairs helping with breakfast and quickly pulled on clean clothes while Daryl dressed more slowly. I untangled my hair with my fingers but stopped short before leaving the cell. 

"Shit!" I hissed. "We weren't exactly quiet last night. I'm not going out there on my own." Daryl rubbed his hands over his face and stood slowly. "They ain't gonna say anythin' with everyone else around," he said, unconvincingly, and I rolled my eyes. "Just come with me on this walk of shame before you take off," I instructed, and he raised his eyebrows. "I thought I gave orders in here," he teased, but followed me out of the cell. 

We descended the stairs, my face burning, and I avoided looking at anyone directly, just made a beeline for the kitchen where Carol and Ben were setting out food. Daryl veered off before we reached the door, probably going to check the fences before breakfast and avoid talking to anyone. 

"I'm so sorry!" I apologized to Carol without meeting her eyes. "I just overslept. Ben, thanks for stepping in." Carol raised her eyebrows. "No problem. Seems like you didn't get a lot of sleep last night." 

I blushed furiously and turned away, grabbing more bowls out of the cupboard, ignoring her grin. Ben, oblivious, followed me into the yard, with the vat of oatmeal. "If you're having trouble sleeping, I know some good remedies," he suggested, at the exact moment Maggie and Glenn joined us. 

I couldn't meet his eyes and busied myself dishing up oatmeal into bowls. "I think she's recently figured out a good method for falling asleep," Glenn offered, with a straight face. "Oh?" Ben queried, "What do you use?" 

"I slept like a log, actually" I replied, avoiding the question. "Could you go grab some spoons?" As soon as he left, I smacked Glenn on the arm. 

"I've had to listen to you two go at it like bunnies for months, so give me a break!" 

"I'm just hoping he offers you a sleep remedy when Daryl's around," Maggie laughed as they walked away with their breakfast.

I grabbed a bowl for myself and sat at an empty table, but Rick, Michonne, Carol, and Beth plopped down moments later and I buried my face in my hands and groaned. Rick patted me on the back. "Hey, I came over here to thank you! I can't tell you how much I appreciate the fact that Daryl won't be yellin' at everyone who looks at him today. It's not healthy to build up that much sexual tension," he teased. 

I knew my face was bright red, but I looked around for Daryl, annoyed that he was leaving me to deal with all the teasing. I saw him leaning against the prison wall, eyes on me, face neutral. 

"Coward," I muttered, and Michonne laughed. "Not gonna argue with you there," she said, "but don't worry - Rick'll corner him eventually." I relaxed slightly and met her eyes. "Sorry about last night," I said. "I'm sure that was awkward." 

Beth, cheeks pink, offered "Well I was putting Judith down and I heard Rick say 'finally', so I don't think anyone was mad", sending the whole table into snorts of laughter, including me. "I'll try to keep the drama at a minimum from now on," I promised, and headed inside to get ready for the day's run. 

Daryl and Glenn were in charge as usual, and all business. Maggie and I hopped in the back of the truck and looked over our list. I was looking forward to getting away from the prison for a while, especially since Ben wasn't coming. I had enjoyed the challenge of creating a functional program that sufficed to feed and house everyone, and there was plenty of satisfaction in seeing things run smoothly, but I needed new challenges occasionally. 

Unfortunately, Dani and her friend Sarah had volunteered to go as well, so we sat awkwardly in the truck during the bumpy ride. Maggie was giving me little glances occasionally and I rolled my eyes at her and mouthed, "I'm fine". I was, too, though I didn't particularly want to be reminded of the fact that she probably still thought she'd be hooking up with Daryl sometime soon. I felt a little bad, actually, that he'd led her on just because he was insecure about what was happening with us.

She didn't know any of that, of course, so I tried to just ignore her and focus on where we were going. Rick had spotted a small natural food store along a quiet road a few weeks back, and we thought it might not have been picked clean yet. I was hoping to find some herbs that were less available in the wild, and work on some new remedies to supplement what medical assistance Herschel could provide. There was no shortage of bruises, cuts, scrapes, twisted ankles, and sore muscles, and salves and poultices were effective treatments when prepared properly. 

We got to our feet when Glenn opened the back and hopped out. Daryl had parked in the grassy area to the side of the store, which looked like a house, apart from the small sign in the window that said "Natural Foods". 

Daryl kicked open the door and knocked his bow against the frame, drawing out two walkers with the noise. He took one out with a bolt, and Glenn stabbed the other in the head, shoving the bodies to the side. They entered, swept the building, and then beckoned for Maggie and me to come inside. Dani and Sarah stood watch out front. 

The lower floor of the house had been converted into a store, and Daryl said it looked like someone had lived upstairs but he hadn't found anything useful up there. We had brought crates with us, and Maggie began clearing out cans of food while Glenn hoisted sacks of grain onto his back and carried them out to the truck. I found a good supply of dried calendula, arnica, and St. John's wort, along with chunks of beeswax, white willow bark, and echinacea. I didn't find any elderberries, but Herschel knew of a patch that grew outside the prison so we could always find fresh ones, and we grabbed several jars of honey off the shelves that would be useful in making medicinal syrups. 

I saw Daryl studying some sort of tool, and walked to the back of the store to see what it was. He'd found a shelf of spice grinders, mortar and pestles, and food mills, all of which we could use. He carried them outside while I helped Maggie with the rest of the canned and boxed goods. We were in good spirits as we emerged from the house, but my smile faltered when I saw Dani, hand on Daryl's chest, leaning in to whisper something to him. He stepped back quickly and brushed past me and Maggie heading toward the house again for the last few boxes. 

"That's gonna need to get handled", Maggie muttered to me, and I nodded. "Not by me though," I said firmly as we climbed back in the truck. "That's all on him." 

Dani was quiet on the way back and Maggie and I chatted for a bit with Sarah about our plans for the stuff we'd collected. I thought that if Daryl needed to deal with Dani's affections sometime soon, for her sake as well as mine, then I needed to figure out a way to let Ben know - nicely - that his attention would be better spent elsewhere. It was tricky though because I knew Daryl was intensely private and wouldn't want anyone outside our group of family knowing anything about us. 

We unloaded the boxes at the prison and I spent some time going over my haul with Herschel. He'd taken an interest in my herbal concoctions and was happy with what I'd found, so we mapped out a schedule for brewing up some different remedies. 

Dinner was ready by the time we were finished, so I headed outside and sat at a table with Herschel, finishing up our conversation. Daryl sat on my other side, and Herschel asked him about the progress on the motorcycle. Maggie and Glenn were making their way over to us when Ben plopped himself down across from me and, with no lack of irony, Dani sat down across from Daryl, along with Sarah. I saw Maggie and Glenn slow up, and then take the table next to us, watching curiously. 

Ben tried to draw me into a conversation about where I'd gone to law school, but I wasn't paying much attention. Dani was asking Daryl where he'd learned to hunt and he was giving her one-word answers, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. He started to get up, but I grabbed his thigh under the table and gave him a glare. If I had to sit through this, so did he. 

Dani looked at us curiously, noticing the exchange, and Ben paused in the midst of recalling some sort of horrible psychology class. "Everything okay?" he asked warily, and Daryl shot him a look. "Mind yer own business," he growled, and Sarah giggled nervously. Ben glanced at me, and I shook my head slightly, warning him to let it go. 

I got the feeling that Ben wasn't used to people disliking him. He leaned over the table toward Daryl and tried again. "Look man, I don't know why you can't just give me a break. I didn't do anything to you, and I don't deserve to be treated like crap. If you can't sit through a meal with me, that's on you. I'm just trying to have a nice conversation with Ana and your attitude is ruining it." 

Daryl met his gaze and narrowed his eyes. "Ya ever listen long enough to find out whether she's interested in talkin' to ya?" he asked calmly. 

Ben flushed and glanced toward me uncertainly. I sighed. "You're a nice guy Ben, I just don't want to discuss the past quite as much as you do," I said as gently as possible. Ben stood up from the table and gathered up his dishes. "I'm sorry for bothering you then," he said stiffly. "I'll leave you alone." 

Daryl got up a moment later and cleared his plate. I was still eating, but Dani bounced up and followed him to the kitchen. I shoved the last bite into my mouth and trailed after her, debating whether or not I should say anything. 

Daryl was in the hallway on the far side of the kitchen, and Dani was standing close to him running her hand up his arm, neither one facing me. He stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Look, that thing we talked about the other day ain't gonna happen, ok? I ain't . . . into it. An' I need ya to back off." 

She murmured something I couldn't hear and continued down the hall, and Daryl looked up to see me watching him. "I guess you took care of both our problems," I said as he walked toward me. He shrugged, "M'tired of the drama. This ain't a damn romance novel." 

"Damn straight," I whispered, kissing him briefly before the rest of the crowd reached the kitchen. There was enough drama in our past and outside the fences to last a lifetime. 


	33. Panic

As I'd predicted, Daryl was strictly no-touching in public, even just around our family. Part of it was probably practicality; we were never entirely out of danger, and we had to stay focused to keep things safe and functioning. But at 9:00 every night we weren't on watch, it was like he flipped a switch, and couldn't keep his hands off me. 

I'd never been particularly obsessed with sex, barring the normal teenage hormones, but I couldn't get enough now. Daryl was a dominant lover, surprisingly confident and assertive, and I found that it elicited a strong response in me. I pushed back against dominating people in every other area of life, especially from men, but I trusted Daryl on a level I'd never experienced before and found it freeing to completely give over control within the limited context of sex. 

He didn't really explain his perspective, but I assumed that he needed an area in which he _did_ have complete control, since much of his life had been dictated by circumstance or by folks who expected him to go along with them. Even Rick, who trusted Daryl and valued his counsel, made most of the final decisions regarding the group. If Daryl really objected, Rick would likely bend to his will but the relationship put Rick in the public leadership role and Daryl as his wingman. I think Daryl preferred this, not wanting everyone to look to him for answers all the time, but he also needed an area where he was completely in charge and my body was the perfect answer.

It was also freeing to be with someone who seemed to like me exactly the way I was, despite the fact that we didn't get enough showers, didn't have time or resources to shave or wax regularly, and couldn't go to a salon for haircuts, color, etc. I'd come in sweaty from working in the garden, and sometimes Daryl would eye the beads of moisture I was wiping from my brow and tell me quietly not to shower before coming to bed. He liked the smell and taste of clean sweat, better than when I was freshly scrubbed and smelling of soap. 

He didn't avoid the scars on my temple and breast or the inside of my thighs or the faint stretch marks on my abdomen leftover from pregnancy, but he didn't dwell on them either. I felt more myself and less self-conscious naked with him than I ever had before in my life, even when I was young and my skin unmarked. 

For his part, Daryl seemed comfortable with his own body, and I delighted in exploring it. He was all hard lines and firm muscle, and I found myself wanting to run my hands under his shirt, along his abs, every time I looked at him. He didn't want to discuss the scars on his back, but he trusted me enough not to hide them, and I could live with that. 

He explained that Merle had a couple of kids he'd abandoned, and Daryl had decided that there shouldn't be any more Dixons as fathers, so he'd gotten a vasectomy when he was 30 to make sure he never got anyone pregnant. It was a little shocking, but I knew Daryl's father was the one who had given him most of his scars, and that the thought of being a father himself must have been terrifying. And for us, it made things much easier since condoms were hard to come by and most of the women's periods were very irregular due to malnutrition so fertility was hard to predict. I decided to think of it as a blessing for the time we were in, rather than something tragic.

_____________

About a week after we'd moved into this new phase of our relationship, I found myself reorganizing the kitchen cupboards while I did the week's inventory before bed. I didn't trust just anyone to make the list of needed supplies for runs, and almost always did it myself. I didn't want someone to forget something important, but I also didn't want them asking for anything frivolous and risking someone's life for a non-necessity. 

I was up on a step-stool, going through the highest cabinets when I heard the kitchen door open and close behind me, and I turned around, expecting to find Carol who often helped me with the task. Instead, Ben stood there, awkwardly watching me and preparing to talk about something I was pretty sure I wanted to avoid. 

"Hey, I'm kind of in the middle of this," I began, but he cut me off. "I know, but I haven't had a chance to get you alone in days, and I really need to say this," he said. 

"I wasn't trying to push you into anything before, I promise. I truly thought you were interested in discussing some of the culture and experiences we had in common, and I just wanted someone to talk to." 

I nodded, beginning to feel the familiar twisting in my stomach as I processed the fact that we were alone, and he stood between me and the door. 

"It's fine Ben, really. I need to go," I said in a rush, taking a step to the side to get by him. He stepped in my way and held out his hand. "No, seriously, don't go. Look, if you aren't interested in some kind of relationship, I get it. But I think you're intelligent and interesting and . . . " 

Ben continued, but I was getting tunnel vision, and having a hard time breathing, and I tuned him out. I tried to calm my racing heart, but a stabbing pain ran through my chest, and I heard my breath stutter as I stepped away from Ben until my lower back hit the counter behind me. He walked forward, hand outstretched, with a look of concern on his face but I slid to the ground and pulled my knees in front of me, burying my head in my arms. 

I couldn't get a full breath now, and black spots were starting to appear in my vision, so I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel waves of nausea washing over me and didn't know if I was going to throw up or faint when another voice joined Ben's, and I felt Carol's cool hands on my neck, smoothing down over my shoulders. I tried to focus on her soothing words but I couldn't slow my breathing and shaking. All I could think of was the Governor standing over me while his guard pulled my arms back and searing pain shot like fire through my body, and then blood, brain matter oozing on the floor, and Daryl. 

Daryl. Daryl. I tried to focus on his face in my head, but it kept slipping away. Carol was shouting now and Ben was talking too, and then a rough hand slid behind my back and another around my neck, and Daryl's gruff voice broke through my cycling thoughts. 

"Hey, yer okay. Yer right here in the kitchen, and yer okay. I'm here, Carol is here, and no one's gonna hurt you. Come on baby, breathe." His voice seeped into my thoughts and my chest stopped clenching. I took in a shuddering deep breath and then another one, and finally opened my eyes to see him kneeling on the floor in front of me. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I just . . . he was in front of the door and I tried to leave but then I couldn't breathe." Daryl's eyes hardened and he looked behind him where Ben was hovering nervously. "You better get the fuck outta here NOW," he growled, and Ben disappeared through the door. Herschel hobbled through a few seconds later and made his way over to me. 

I had gotten my breathing back to normal and was mortified about what had happened. "Herschel, I'm so sorry, you didn’t have to come all the way in here. I'm okay now, I just was caught off guard. I couldn't remember how to calm myself down fast enough, and I feel like an idiot." 

Herschel squeezed my shoulder. "Don't ever apologize for being human, sweetheart. When you've been through trauma like you have, the brain has to protect itself when it feels threatened. These panic attacks are to be expected, and the only thing that'll make them stop is time and working through what happened. I think you're doin' pretty well with the second part of that, so just be patient with yourself." 

Daryl had shifted to sit beside me against the cabinets, and I leaned into him heavily. Herschel took my pulse and had me take some more deep breaths, and then straightened up. "You'll be okay. Just get a good night's sleep and you'll be good as new in the mornin'." 

Daryl pulled me to my feet and looked down at me intently. "You okay to walk?" he asked, and I nodded. "Yeah, just a little shaky." 

We left the kitchen, and the dining area was mercifully deserted. We made our way to our cell block and up the stairs, where Carol gave me a hug and told me she'd cover for my breakfast duties. 

I curled up on the bed as soon as we got into the cell, and turned toward the wall, tears sliding down my face. I could feel Daryl hovering a little behind me, before eventually slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the bed. He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. "Y'okay? I don' have to stay if you want to be alone." 

I shook my head without looking at him. "No, don't leave please," I choked out, and he stretched out next to me, and wrapped an arm around my torso, pulling me slightly toward him. I rolled toward him, burying my face in his shirt, unable to stop crying. He didn't say anything, just let me soak his shirt with tears and rubbed my back until I eventually fell asleep. 


	34. Baby Steps

I woke up alone, late enough that the prison was quiet with everyone off working for the day. I felt awful. My head hurt, I could tell my eyes were swollen, and I'd gone to bed without brushing my teeth so my mouth tasted disgusting. I stumbled to the bathrooms and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I looked as bad as I felt - pale, red-rimmed eyes, exhausted. I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth, and combed out my hair with my fingers. There were days when I really missed makeup. 

I really didn't want to face anyone after my meltdown. I wasn't sure who had seen or heard, and it was humiliating. I was supposed to be the one running things around here, and completely falling apart when a perfectly harmless guy tried to have a conversation with me wasn't going to instill confidence in my abilities. At the very least, Ben had witnessed the whole thing and would likely talk to others about it. 

I stood in front of the mirror, trying to give myself a pep talk. "It doesn't matter what they think," I muttered, "shit still needs to get done. Get over yourself." Eventually, I worked up enough courage to head out to the garden, where folks had spread out gathering the last of the tomatoes for the season. 

Carol was just outside the kitchen door, planting some greens we hoped to harvest in the fall. She straightened up and gave me a smile. "You're looking better. I hope you aren't letting it get to you." I bit my lip and she shook her head. "No one thinks any worse of you, you know," she said. "As Herschel said, it's to be expected. We're all just impressed you aren't constantly panicking, considering what you went through." 

I chewed on the inside of my cheek nervously. "Well, Ben doesn't know about all that. Either he has to be told, and I don't really want that, or he'll think I'm just a complete mess who could have a nervous breakdown at any point. And if he told others, I'm not sure they'll think I should be in charge of anything around here."

Carol sighed. "I'm pretty sure he didn't talk to anyone else about it. He was very shaken up and apologetic last night and I asked him to keep it to himself until we had a chance to explain. It's up to you, what you tell him, but I think he'll be understanding." 

____________

I spent some time picking tomatoes and avoiding talking to anyone, unsure what I was going to do about Ben. Around the middle of the day, a shadow fell over me and I looked up to see Beth standing there with Judith. "Come eat something," she said, and I realized I was starving, having missed breakfast. "I think you could use some baby snuggles" she continued, as we made our way over to the blanket she'd spread out in the grass. 

She was right - Judith was getting to the age where her personality was really starting to develop, and she had discovered her tongue and would stick it out all the time, wiggling it around. Beth and I made faces at her and she giggled and grabbed at our fingers. Eventually, she got sleepy and Beth asked if I'd stay with her for a bit while she napped so Beth could get a little break. I nodded, and lay down on the blanket next to Judith, watching her suck on her little thumb and thinking about absolutely nothing. 

I must have dozed off because the next time I opened my eyes Beth was saying my name and the sun had moved further west. Judith was still sleeping, but I stretched and let Beth take over baby duty again while I went in to help with dinner prep. I took a deep breath before entering the kitchen, but there were enough people around and bustling activity that I didn't get overwhelmed thinking about the night before. 

I focused on chopping vegetables and browning them in big pots over the stove. As the soup came together, I pulled out the big loaves of bread that had been baked earlier in the day and began cutting thick slices, setting them on trays to be carried outside when the food was ready. Most of our meals were some form of soup or stew and bread, as it was the cheapest way to feed lots of people, but we were always hungry enough that it didn't matter. 

When dinner was ready, we carried big pots of soup and trays of bread out to the picnic tables and folks lined up to get their food. I focused on dishing up the soup into bowls, and then carried empty pots back into the kitchen and started washing them. When Carol pressed a bowl of soup into my hands, I looked up startled, and then realized I hadn't eaten yet and scarfed it down. 

"I'll take over," she said and shooed me toward the door after I took my last bite. I walked out into the yard to find the sun low and the courtyard mostly deserted, except for Ben, sitting at a table by himself. I swallowed hard, realizing that Carol must have arranged this - an open space where I wouldn't panic while we talked about what had happened. A noise to my left caught my attention and I turned to see Daryl leaning against the wall of the prison, watching me carefully. "Ya want me to come with you?" he asked gruffly, and I nodded. We walked over to where Ben sat, and he stood up nervously but I gestured for him to sit again. 

"I'm so sorry!" he blurted out. "I don't know what I said, but I'm so sorry. I didn't know what to do and I think I made it worse. I really didn't -" I held up a hand to cut him off before he could apologize again. "Ben, it's not your fault," I started, and heard Daryl snort softly while crossing his arms over his chest, undoubtedly disagreeing with me. 

I elbowed him gently. "Seriously, it isn't. I just went through some stuff a while back and every once in a while something sort of triggers a panic attack. It doesn't happen very often, and I'm getting better at controlling them, but last night I just was caught off guard and . . . " I trailed off, not wanting to think about how I'd fallen apart. "Anyway, I just hoped you could keep it to yourself. I know I looked like a total mess but most of the time I'm fine, and I don't really want people to know about those moments, if possible. They're usually more private than that." 

I took a deep breath and dared to meet Ben's gaze. As I had feared, his face was filled with pity and remorse. "I feel terrible," he said quietly. "And of course I won't tell anyone. But . . . maybe if you talked about what happened . . . I mean, I don't quite understand what it was I did that set you off, and maybe if I knew what happened, I could avoid it." 

I stiffened, but Daryl spoke up before I could respond. "No," he said flatly. "It's none a yer business. You spent all yer time at Woodbury livin' the cushy life 'fore coming here, and ya don't know what it's like out there. It's enough to make most people give up, but the strong ones who don't? The ones who survive and build something like this even after what they been through?" he gestured to the prison, "they don' gotta explain nothin'. From now on, if she tries to leave when yer around, you let her leave, understand? That's all you gotta know." 

Ben nodded, and Daryl and I got up to leave. "I'll keep it to myself," he promised, and I could see that he meant it. We walked slowly up toward the kitchen door, but before we reached it, Daryl wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me toward him, heedless of the fact that Ben was still sitting and watching us. "Ya okay?" he murmured, and I nodded. He slipped his fingers into my hair cautiously, and I leaned into toward him so he could cover my mouth with his. We stood there in the warm night air, breathing each other in between kisses, and I felt all the tightness in my chest evaporate. 


	35. Library

Ben kept to his word, and I never heard a whisper about my breakdown from the Woodbury folks. He also kept his distance, and I was grateful for it. Daryl and I weren't particularly affectionate in pubic, but he didn't completely avoid touching me anymore and occasionally rested a hand on my hip or waist in a way that was undeniably intimate to anyone watching. I was pretty sure he had fully accepted our relationship and didn't care what people thought, and I was happier than I ever thought I could be in this new world.

Fall had come, and we were frantically preserving as much of the harvest as we could before things got too cold. Daryl was able to bring in a lot of meat, and we butchered the pigs and made jerky and canned meat from most of it. I fell into bed exhausted most days, but Daryl's touch never failed to wake my nerve endings up and he'd lick, suck, kiss, and fuck me until I was completely sated and content to slip into oblivion before another hectic day started. 

___________

When the really cold weather began, things slowed down at the prison. We still had fence duty, watch, and meals to prepare, but there were more hands to help since the gardens were lying fallow, and we all had breaks. We'd collected lots of yarn and fabric and I was knitting warm scarves, hats, and mittens for all the kids in the evenings, along with several other folks. We'd also raided the prison's small library and had a good stack of decent books that folks passed around. 

I found myself in the empty library, looking for something new one day, and came upon the legal section. Prison libraries have a lot of shelf space devoted to case law and state statutes so prisoners can do their own legal research, and it brought me back to law school. I sat at one of the desks and began flipping through the first volume of the US Reporter, skimming the familiar early Supreme Court cases that had shaped our country. I glanced up when I felt someone watching me and saw Daryl leaning in the doorway. 

I flushed slightly and closed the book as he shut the door behind him and walked closer to see what I was reading. "It's kinda silly," I said self-consciously, "but these old cases have always been fascinating to me," Daryl smirked and lifted me to sit on the desk, standing between my knees. "Ya spend a lotta time in the library when you were in school?" he asked, kissing along my jaw. "Mmmhmmm," I responded, angling my neck so he had better access. "That was pretty much all I did when I wasn't working - studied like crazy." 

His hands slipped under my ass and he pulled me against him, rocking against my core so I could feel that he was already hard. "No study breaks, for stress release?" he asked, unbuttoning the first few buttons of my shirt so he could lick along the tops of my breasts. "No," I said breathlessly, "but if you were around I would have." 

"Fuck yes, you would’ve," he groaned, kissing along my collarbone, and pulling my shirt and bra cups down further so my breasts spilled over the top. He scraped his teeth against my nipple, tugging so the tiniest thread of pain ran alongside the intense pleasure before swirling his tongue soothingly around it and then moving to the other side. Soon, I was arching my back and moaning, soaking wet and desperate for more. 

He snapped open my jeans and tugged them down with my panties, the wood of the desk cold against my bare skin. "Daryl" I murmured, as his hands slipped between my legs, "what if someone comes in?" He pushed his fingers into me and out, running them up to circle my clit and I moaned, unable to hold it back. "Then they'll get a show," he whispered in my ear, and I shivered against him, half turned on at the idea and half mortified. 

Daryl chucked at the look on my face and slid his fingers in me again. "Nobody was down this direction" he reassured me. "Though I think yer wetter now that yer thinkin' about someone watchin'." I blushed and shook my head, but he was pushing me back to lie on the desk, and tugging off my boots so he could pull off my jeans and spread my legs apart. 

I lay there, somewhat self consciously, shirt half unbuttoned with my breasts spilling out, bare from the waist down, flushed and aroused, and he stepped back to look at me in the dim lamplight. "Jesus you're beautiful" he breathed, eyes dark with want. My feet rested on the edge of the table, knees bent, and he pushed my legs further apart, opening me up to him, and crouched down to lick the moisture from my center. I could see the glass doors of the library, and the dark hallway beyond them, and I felt both utterly exposed and completely safe.

My back arched thrusting my hard nipples, still wet from his earlier attention, into the cold air as he swirled his tongue around my clit and I couldn't help the whimpers that echoed in the empty room. He pulled his mouth away after a few minutes and kissed me so I could taste myself, then pulled me down from the table and turned me around, bending me over and unbuckling his belt. I pushed my hips back toward him, silently begging, and he slid into me from behind, filling me up tightly. 

"Fuck," he grunted, biting down gently on my shoulder. "Jesus, I'm not gonna last this way." He was already thrusting roughly and slipped his hand down to circle my clit with his fingers. I felt the familiar tightening in my core and arched my neck back so I could kiss him. "Good," I said desperately, "I'm so close, Daryl." He grabbed my hips, speeding up his pace and fucking me hard, and I climaxed quickly, crying out despite my attempts to keep quiet. Daryl came shortly afterward, muffling his shout against my shoulder, and then stepped back, pressing a hand to my lower back so I stayed where I was. 

"Look at me," he said gruffly, and I turned my head to look over my shoulder. "Yeah, I'll remember that" he whispered. "You bent over a desk, bare ass in the air, lookin' well fucked with my cum runnin' down yer legs." I bit my lip, already aroused again. I hadn't realized how much dirty talk excited me until Daryl, but things I'd normally find incredibly demeaning sounded sexy when he said them to me in that almost reverent tone. 

He shook his head at my look, with a small smile. "Much as I'd like to stay here an make you scream again, we gotta get to dinner or someone'll come lookin' fer us." He pulled a clean rag from his back pocket and ran it up my legs gently, before pulling on my pants and tying my boots. He always cleaned me up afterward, no matter how rough and dirty it had been, taking care of me and earning my trust again and again, and I almost told him I loved him right there. I'd stopped myself several times already over the past few weeks, worried it would freak him out or make him feel like he had to say it too, so I held back. 

We walked to the dining hall and joined the crowd lining up for stew. Daryl kept his hand resting on my thigh while we ate, and I laced my fingers through his. I was eager to be done with dinner and head to our cell to resume our previous activities, but a commotion by the doors pulled my attention away from Daryl. A few of the older kids had finished their dinner early and gone out to milk the goats but had come running back in, talking over each other excitedly. 

Rick strode over to them and asked for the oldest to explain what was wrong. "A helicopter!" he gasped. "We saw a helicopter! It flew right over us!" Rick glanced at Daryl briefly, and Daryl shook his head slightly. Rick thought he'd seen a helicopter the day he met our group in Atlanta, but no one had seen anything since then. One of the Woodbury folks had confirmed that there was still a military presence at the border, as of a few months ago, but it had appeared the rest of the world was content to leave Georgia locked up while they fought their own battles. 

The din picked up as folks began speculating about what it could mean. The kids said the helicopter had flown over us heading north, and they hadn't seen it come down anywhere before it got too far away to see. Eventually, Rick got everyone's attention and asked us to calm down. "We don't know what this means, and there's no point in speculating. Let's just continue on with what we're doing, and keep an eye out for anything else unusual." 

Daryl wanted to talk to Rick about the latest development, but I didn't want to get too drawn into speculation about some kind of rescue. I'd learned to focus on what we had now, rather than dwelling on things that might never happen, and it kept me from being constantly sad about what I was missing back home, or whether they were even still there. I took my time getting washed up and tidying the room before climbing into bed. 

I was getting sleepy by the time Daryl returned, and he was quiet as he got into bed. I curled into him and shivered a little at the cold he'd let in when he pulled back the blankets. "All good?" I asked drowsily, and he nodded, wrapping an arm around me. "Yah. Nothin' to worry about" he murmured, and I put my head on his chest and fell asleep. 


	36. Retreat

_I wish to know_   
_The fatal flaw that makes you long to be_   
_Magnificently cursed_

Winter pressed on, and there were no more signs of helicopters or any other outside presence. I thought about the previous winter often, when we were huddled in storage units or abandoned houses, and I’d felt distant from everyone else. So much had changed - and we had changed so much - that it seemed like a lifetime ago. 

These days we had meager rations, but enough to sustain us and the satisfaction of knowing we'd put aside enough to last the winter. We had fences and walls to keep walkers out, lanterns for light, and warm blankets and fires to heat the space. And I had Daryl, wrapped around me in the dark, keeping the nightmares and the cold away. 

Not that everything was wonderful, or that the danger was ever far away. One section of the outer fence had been weakening, despite our efforts to keep walkers off of it, and Daryl and Rick were shoring it up as much as possible, worrying about a breach. Several folks had coughs or the sniffles, and I was doling out elderberry syrup to boost everyone's immune system. A run went badly one day, and we lost Axle and a couple of Woodbury folks that Carol had gotten close to. But in a world as violent as the one we inhabited, things were relatively stable.

We weren't sure of the exact date, but we knew when it was about Christmas because the length of the days grew so short. I had been thinking about it a lot, and how much it used to absorb our lives. All the parties, presents, rich food, celebrations of family and love. It seemed both trite and beautiful, something from another era that I missed but couldn't see the point in trying to recreate.

It must have been on my mind more than I thought, however, because as I was going through my herb stores, Herschel walked in and smiled at me. "I love that song," he said, and I realized I'd been singing _O Come, O Come Emmanuel_ softly to myself. I laughed self-consciously. "I hadn't even realized I was doing it, but that one was always my favorite," I admitted. 

Herschel sat down heavily on the chair across the table and sighed. "I've been thinkin' about Christmas too. Wish we could do somethin' for the kids, but it could never be what they remember." I nodded. 

"Maybe next year," I said hopefully. "If we think of it earlier and can put together a little gift or something." Herschel nodded. "Hard to think that far ahead," he said thoughtfully. "I have to admit, when I heard there was a helicopter, I wondered how long we'd be here." 

I began to gather up my things, sorting them back into their boxes. "I'm not getting my hopes up," I said firmly. "We have to assume we'll be here for the time being, and make sure we're prepared for what's coming in the spring." 

Herschel steepled his fingers and looked at me as I packed up. "Probably a good idea," he said finally, "but don't lose hope that this will end someday. You'll need to be prepared for that too, and a journey back to your family through whatever is out there." 

I swallowed hard, not allowing myself to think too much about seeing my kids and family again. "I can't, Herschel. I can't think about it too much. It hurts." He nodded and patted my hand. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I'll keep hoping for you, and you just take care of planning the spring garden, okay?" 

I smiled gratefully and finished putting away my things so I could help the laundry crew wash the woolen items that needed extra care. Christmas or not, the work never stopped, and I couldn't either. 

_______________

I lay draped across Daryl's chest that night, boneless and sleepy after two intense orgasms. "I think it's Christmas, or close," I whispered, not sure if he was asleep. He hummed in agreement but didn't speak. 

"What did you used to do for Christmas?" I asked, bracing myself for him to shut me down. Daryl still rarely shared about his past, and I knew most of it was depressing, but I was genuinely curious if there were any nice holiday memories or traditions he'd want to revive someday. 

"Not much," he murmured after a few minutes of tense silence. "Santa Claus didn't exactly visit our house. My ol' man would get drunk, no diff'rent than any other night. Sometimes worse than other nights. But once," he shifted his hand to run it through my hair absently, "my ma waited until he passed out in his chair, and then took me to the store and let me pick out whatever I wanted to eat. I grabbed one of every candy bar I could see and ate all of 'em that night so my pa wouldn' see what we did when he woke up. Was sick as a dog later, but it was worth it." 

The story was sad, but I could tell Daryl was smiling at the memory. "You loved your mom," I said, praying again that he wouldn't shut me out. His hand stilled but he just took a deep breath and turned his head to press a kiss to my forehead. "Yeah," he said quietly. "She wasn' strong like you, didn' know how ta fix our life, but she cared." 

I rolled over onto my stomach and looked at him fully in the dim light from the corridor. "Do you think there's anything . . . after this life?" We'd never discussed religion, though Daryl didn't seem the type, but I'd been struggling with my childhood faith since long before the plague started and was suddenly curious. 

Daryl looked at me with an unreadable expression, chewing on his lip. "Dunno," he finally said. "I used ta think there was a heaven that she was in, lookin' down on me or some shit like that, but I don' think that now. Does it matter?" 

I shook my head. "No, not really, I was just curious. I think I believe in _something_ more than just us, but I'm not sure what. It used to be the all-knowing, all-powerful Christian God, but now it's just this vague sense that there's . . . something else. Sometimes I miss the certainty of that young and naive person I was growing up, who thought the world was this beautiful precious thing that had been carefully designed." 

"Never had that," Daryl said gruffly, "never saw much more than ugliness growin' up, other than a few things. Nice teacher, one year, that tried to help. Some lady befriended my ma for a while and brought me a bike. That one Christmas. But once she was gone, it was just all ugly unless I was in the woods. I believed in heaven just 'cuz I wanted to think my ma was still somewhere, but I never saw any evidence of some loving God."

"I had a client," I began, suddenly struck by the memory, "who was this 14-year-old boy who had been in 12 placements in two years, if you count his stays in juvie. I met with him at his new foster home and asked if he thought it would be a good fit and he just looked at me and said 'I don't think there's anything good in the entire world Miss' and he was being completely sincere. His whole life was ugliness and he had zero hope for anything else. I cried all the way home at the way the system had failed him." 

"What system?" Daryl said, suddenly angry, pushing himself up on his elbows to stare me down. "I never saw no 'system' except the one that carted my brother off to juvie when he started doin' exactly what my old man did every night. You think you can help kids by bein' a part a that fuckin' mess? You visit that kid and then head home to yer nice house and fancy car and kids who aren't all fucked up, and feel like ya did somethin' good?"

I sat up, pulling the sheets around me. "No, I didn't think I did something good that day. That was a bad day, and I failed that kid. We all did. There were good stories too though, kids who got help and ended up okay. Or parents that got the treatment they needed, pulled their life back together and could parent safely. You're right, it is a fucking mess but with the right help -"

"With the right help, my childhood coulda been sunshine and daisies?" Daryl exploded, standing up and pulling on his clothes and boots. "Bullshit. The last thing I needed was some shitty social worker lawyer cryin' over my pathetic life. An' I really don' need it right now so stay the fuck outta my head." He grabbed his coat and stormed out of the cell leaving me stunned at the way the conversation had turned. 

I sat for a moment processing, and then slowly got dressed. I knew Daryl would need to cool off before talking anymore, but I couldn't let him stew for too long and get more pissed. I was pretty sure he'd gone outside, so I bundled up and headed out. It was snowing very lightly, and the ground was covered in a thin layer of white so it wasn't hard to spot him, standing at the edge of the courtyard and looking at the frozen yard. 

I knew he heard me coming, but he didn't walk away or yell, so I took that as a good sign. I stepped up next to him and looked out over the moonlit snow toward the dark forest. "I don't think of you as one of those kids, Daryl," I said softly. "You're the strongest person I know, and everything we go through just seems to make you better, rather than wearing you down like the rest of us." 

Daryl exhaled sharply and I could see his breath in the cold air. "Ya don' feel sorry for what a shitty life I had?"

I took my time answering, not wanting to say the wrong thing. "I mean, of course I wish you had a better childhood. How could I not? But . . . I don't know, somehow it made you into who you are, and I'm in love with you -" the words slipped out before I could stop them, and hung there in the freezing air between us. 

Daryl turned, slowly, and looked at me in the moonlight. My eyes were wide and I had pressed my fingers to my lips; it was obvious that I hadn't intended to say that. "I'm sorry" I whispered frantically. "I wasn't planning to . . . I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable with . . . shit." I scrubbed my hands over my face. "Can we just start over and pretend that didn't happen?" 

Daryl slowly shook his head and my heart sank. I backed away and leaned against the prison wall out of the wind. "Okay. So now what?" I asked anxiously. He was still staring at me, clouds of white vapor escaping through his lips as he breathed, and then slowly walked toward me. I looked up at his face when he got close and realized he wasn't angry or embarrassed - he was amused. 

"Are you . . . laughing at me?" I asked incredulously and an actual smile spread across his face. "I've never seen ya that uncomfortable talkin' about feelings," he said. "What'd ya think I was gonna do, run inta the woods?" 

I blushed, completely caught off guard by his response. "Well, I don't know, maybe? It's not like you love mushy stuff, and usually you shut me down if I'm being sappy. I thought you'd be weird about it." 

"I think I mighta been, if ya hadn't looked so funny after ya blurted it out," Daryl admitted, and I rolled my eyes. "Glad I'm so amusing," I said huffily, but he was wrapping his arms around me, kissing me with freezing cold lips, and I pressed myself against him, seeking his heat. He lifted me up to wrap my legs around him, deepening the kiss, and we heard a wolf whistle from the guard tower where I was pretty sure Rick and Michonne were on watch. Daryl flipped them off without breaking the kiss, and then set me gently down and pushed me toward the door, warmth, and bed. 


	37. Visitor

_ Clover blooms in the fields  
Spring breaks loose, the time is near _

Daryl never told me he was in love with me, which bothered me less than I'd expected. I wasn't sure he trusted his own feelings enough to define them, even if he'd felt comfortable saying the words, and he showed me how he felt enough that I didn't really miss them. I didn't say them often, in case it made him uncomfortable, but sometimes they'd slip out, especially when I was sleepy or coming down off a particularly intense orgasm and it didn't cause a problem as far as I could tell. 

The weather gradually warmed, and we began mapping out the schedule for tilling and planting the spring crops. Herschel was sure we could grow soybeans, which could be a great source of plant protein and food for the animals, but I knew nothing about them, so he was going over their planting schedule when we heard the unmistakable "thunk-thunk" of helicopter rotors, and the wind kicked up, rattling the picnic tables in the courtyard. 

I ran outside, gaping at the sight of a military helicopter landing in the bare fields. Everyone had rushed to watch, and I felt Daryl behind me, hand on my hip, fingers grazing against my knife to check it was there just in case. 

Three figures in combat gear jumped out of the helicopter once it landed, two carrying semiautomatic rifles that they used to take out a few walkers who were leaning into the fence. The other, weaponless, walked toward the group, pulling off his helmet, but stopped when he realized half the group was pointing guns or bows at him. He raised his hands to show he wasn't hiding anything and smiled nervously. "We're here to help - not to cause problems. We'll only use our guns to take out the dead, I promise" he yelled over the noise of the engine and after a moment, Rick gestured to everyone to lower their weapons. 

The man approached cautiously and looked at Rick, who had stepped forward. "I'm Johann," he said with a slight accent, "I'm from the United Nations. We've been planning this for months, after we flew over your settlement and realized there were people living here." 

I felt my knees weaken, and I sagged slightly into Daryl as folks all around me began to cry and hug each other in relief. Daryl's hand gripped mine firmly, and he pulled us closer to Rick and Johann. 

"Are you sayin' you're here to get us out?" Rick asked, and the man nodded vigorously. "Yes! The Georgia Containment Zone has been the subject of much discussion among those of us who are trying to rebuild things. We finally got permission to do an exploratory mission several months ago, and when we reported that there were clear signs of healthy humans still living here, we began working on a rescue plan." 

The helicopter had turned off its engine, and the courtyard fell quiet at the word "rescue plan", no one quite daring to believe it was true. 

Rick rubbed a hand over his hair. "Are you tellin' me," he said roughly, "that the world out there is . . . is _fine_? That we've been sittin' in here fightin' for our _lives_ , losin' our _lives_ , and outside you all were _discussin'_ a rescue mission?" 

Johann shook his head quickly. "No! Out there is a mess too, so much so that it took this long just to have the resources to even attempt to get people out, but it's definitely better than here. Let's go inside and I'll explain everything." Rick nodded, slowly, still stunned, and we moved as a group toward the dining hall. 

Johann explained that once the military dropped bombs on Atlanta and we lost contact with the outside world, things continued to deteriorate out there. Folks rioted, local governments were under attack, and martial law was declared across the whole country. The infection kept spreading slowly, but since they knew it was coming and knew how to deal with those that turned, there weren't as many walkers that managed to attack anyone before being put down. 

Unfortunately, dealing with the infection made the United States vulnerable, and the rest of the world was a long way behind in getting it. They now knew that it spread in the air, so it took a few months for it to cross oceans and by that time, China had seized the opportunity to destroy the most powerful country in the world. They dropped nuclear bombs on New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Chicago, and Washington DC, taking out the entire federal government and shutting down the whole grid. 

We sat in horror as he relayed this news. I had grown used to the sight of walkers, and the violence and gore that came with them, but nuclear warfare still seemed like science fiction. "The United States lost 20 million in one day, we estimate," Johann said somberly. I could hear several women from Woodbury sobbing, and I thought of friends I had in those cities, of the culture, and the sheer number of dead that must have . . . "Wait," I said, the realization dawning on me. "All the dead people . . . they turned?" 

Johann nodded grimly. "Yes. The Chinese weren't ever planning to invade. They created a land they couldn't take, by filling it with the living dead. Of course, the infected in those kinds of numbers wiped out several states, almost at the level of Georgia, but the US military is fairly spread out so many bases survived the bombs, and those troops were able to come in and take out whole areas, and eventually get it under control. There are still some dead to eliminate in the worst areas, but they've been sealed off and more or less contained."

"Those who were left figured out how to protect their communities, building walls and fences, and learning to survive without the grid. Some states were left fairly intact, and they're operating with their own governments right now since the federal government is essentially nonexistent. Canada stepped in to help the military and provide support to some extent and is working to establish some kind of national leadership and new capital, but it's slow going. The UN is working on humanitarian aid, but since all the other countries of the world are now experiencing the plague themselves, there aren't many resources out there."

The room was quiet as everyone processed the barrage of information we'd just received. A fractured country, no grid, millions and millions dead, communities and states operating on their own without a federal government. I realized I was still clutching Daryl's hand in a death grip and loosened my fingers slightly. 

"Can you . . . " I spoke shakily, not sure I wanted to ask, "can you tell me how things are in Oregon?" Johann looked at me and smiled kindly. "You have family there, yes?" At my nod, he continued. "Lots of lives were lost all over the country, about half the population, but the Northwest is doing better than many places. I think there is a good chance you still have loved ones living there." 

I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from sobbing in relief, and Daryl pulled me into his arms. I cried freely, the sound lost among the babble of voices and other questions being shouted at Johann. All the feelings of grief and loss I'd buried for months bubbled up, mixed with the hope that my family was still alive and well. 

After I pulled myself together somewhat, Daryl, arms still tightly around me, muttered to Rick. "So . . . now what?" Rick nodded and stood to get the group's attention. 

"So now that you've given us an overview of what happened, what can you tell us about our future?" he asked Johann. 

"Our plan is to fly you to Denver, which is relatively stable," he answered, "and find places for you to resettle. If you have family, we'll help you make contact with them and figure out how to get where you need to go. Unfortunately, communication is difficult and transportation even more so. There is very little fuel in some areas, and what we do have, we generally use to move products and try and re-establish some trade. The jet fuel we'll use to get you to Denver is precious, and it took us a long time to get it secured, so there will not be multiple trips. Please understand that - this is a one-time offer and there are no alternatives. The plane is on a landing strip outside Gainesville, and we'll shuttle you there in the chopper as soon as you can pack your things." 

Our lives had turned upside down in the span of an hour. There would be no soybean planting, no rebuilding of the fence supports, no need to figure out a better cooling system for the cell block this summer. We would never see this place again, after tonight, and the thought made me want to laugh and cry at the same time. 

I shook my head in disbelief and looked up at Daryl, whose face was unreadable. He was looking at the group, all talking excitedly and beginning to drift off to their cells to gather their things, and I couldn't tell what was going through his head. "Hey", I said, tugging on his shirt to get his attention, and he looked down at me. I put my hand up to his face and looked at him seriously. "Are you okay?" I asked, and he drew in a breath, the pensive look on his face cleared suddenly, giving way to a half-smile. "We're gettin' out" he whispered. "An' I'm keepin' my promise to yer kids." 

"It's surreal," I said, walking quickly toward our cell block with his hand in mine. "I can't get my brain around it, and we don't have time to really process it." 

We reached our cell and began throwing our clothes and toiletries into bags. Daryl shoved his hunting gear and various tools and weapons into his pack and I ran to the infirmary and grabbed my herbal remedies kit, and some of the more difficult herbs to get ahold of. 

Johann was organizing groups to be shuttled to the airfield, and our little family offered to go last. When the helicopter pulled away with the final group before us, we stood in the center of the cell block and looked around at the place we'd made into a home. Carol had tears running down her face. "You're my family," she said, her voice breaking. "Where am I going to go, out there?" 

Herschel wrapped an arm around her. "We're not leavin' each other once we get outta here, ya hear me?" The rest of us nodded our agreement. "We _are_ a family," Rick stated firmly. "That means we stick together and no one's left to fend for themselves." He grasped Daryl's shoulder, and I reached out a hand to hold Carol's for a moment, thanking some higher power that I'd found them when I did

We heard the engine of the helicopter and made our way to the courtyard, taking one last glimpse of the space before the door shut behind us and we ran forward toward an unknown future beyond the borders of the Georgia Containment Zone. 


	38. Escape

_ Crescent moon, coast is clear  
Spring breaks loose, but so does fear _

The next few hours were a whirlwind. I had never been in a helicopter, and never wish to repeat the experience. It was loud and jarring, and I breathed a sigh of relief when we touched down at the small airfield. We loaded on the military plane, which was clearly made for cargo and not people, and settled onto the floor. 

It felt like we were flying into a different universe, and I found myself reaching for Daryl's hand again. It felt foolish - I'd flown many times - but I needed something to anchor me during all this transition. He gripped my hand tightly in return and pulled me against his side, and it occurred to me that this was his first time on a plane. I watched his profile in the dim light and wondered what was going through his head. Fear? He'd told me he never left Georgia, and now he'd never be able to return. 

Of course, none of this showed on his face and I knew he wouldn't tell me outright. Our flight was about 3 hours, and we didn't talk much. I could see Michonne and Rick, heads together with Carl, Judith on Michonne's lap. Carol spoke quietly with Beth and Herschel, and Maggie rested against Glenn, head on his shoulder. The Woodbury folks were in small groups, undoubtedly talking about where they would go next. I wondered how many of them had family in areas that were still standing, and whether we'd ever see them again. 

__________________

We touched down at a military base in Denver, Colorado on March 31, 2023. We were herded to a big building and greeted by more UN representatives, who showed us to small dorm rooms where we were going to be housed for the time being. There were bathrooms with hot showers and after we'd washed up, we were taken to a larger room where they served us some sort of pasta dish that I barely tasted. 

It was a stark contrast to the night we'd spent at the CDC, where we'd celebrated and relaxed in the safety of a secure building. Some of the Woodbury folks seemed comfortable, laughing and toasting our good fortune, but our smaller group wasn't ready to accept that this was going to end well. We'd had too many incidents where letting our guard down led to disaster, and we remained hyper-vigilant as the evening progressed. 

Eventually, some of the UN representatives approached each table and explained their plan to relocate us. Many areas of the United States had heard about their efforts to rescue folks in the GCZ, as they were calling it, and had sent in names of those that were missing. They would run our names against the list and let us know if anyone was looking for us. If so, they'd help us get in contact and make arrangements to settle with them. 

If we didn't show up on the list but had family or friends we thought might still be around and willing to take us in, they'd make inquiries on our behalf. If neither of those panned out, they would help us settle near Denver in a barracks that had been repurposed as a refugee facility. 

When dinner was over, our group gathered in Rick and Michonne's dorm room, cramming ourselves in for a little privacy. "Does anyone other than Ana have family that would be looking for them?" Rick asked, arm wrapped around Carl. 

Glenn spoke up. "My family is from Michigan, but my parents died in a car accident a few months before the infection started. I probably still have some aunts and uncles around, but I don't know if they'd be looking for me. Probably not." 

Everyone else was from Georgia, and any close family had either died or would presumably be rescued and brought to the same facility and need to be relocated themselves. Rick nodded and looked at me. "I assume you'll be going to Oregon as soon as possible, with Daryl?" 

I looked up at Daryl before answering, and he gave me a slight nod, silently encouraging me. "I was actually hoping we would all go," I said quietly. "I mean, if there's somewhere else you want to be, I'm not trying to stop you, but if it's just a matter of finding a safe place, it sounds like the Northwest is a good bet. And if my family is there, we'd have connections and help settling, and that's better than what we'll find anywhere else, unless we want to live in a refugee center. 

"You think your family would want all of us showing up?" Rick asked, and I smiled. "I have a big family, and I think once they understand that I only survived because of all of you, they'll welcome everyone and help us find a new life." 

"I'll be honest," Carol said. "It makes me nervous to think about going so far, but I'd rather do that with all of you than be stuck with a bunch of strangers. And if Ana's family is out there, I want her to be with them again, so I'm in." 

Everyone else nodded or chimed in, and Rick stood up. "So we're in agreement," he said firmly. "We'll try to contact Ana's family and get to Oregon as a group if it's possible." 

I felt Daryl's arm wrap around my waist from behind, and he tugged me toward the door as the group dispersed. We made our way back to our dorm room and I flipped on the light, flooding it with harsh light from the fluorescent bulb in the ceiling. I turned it back off again quickly and dug out my little camping lantern from my bag, setting it on the table so it gave off a soft glow in the room. 

"I'm just not used to it," I said, self-consciously, but Daryl had come up behind me and swept my damp hair away from my neck. He bent to place kisses along its curve and up my jaw to the scar on my temple, stopping to tug gently on my earlobe with his teeth. 

"Mmm," I hummed in appreciation, and his warm hands slid under my shirt, across the soft skin of my stomach, brushing my ribcage. My eyes fluttered closed as he slowly pushed it up and over my torso, then unhooked my bra and pushed it down my arms to the floor. He pushed me gently toward the bed, tugging my pants over my hips before I climbed in. I turned to look at his face as he unbuttoned his own shirt but couldn't tell what he was thinking. He'd been quiet since we got on the plane, and I didn't know how to get him to open up. 

He explored every inch of my body with his mouth that night, and I felt his lips move against my hip bone as if he was speaking, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. Afterwards, he traced patterns on my back and I combed my hand through his hair, which had gotten shaggy over the winter. 

"What are you thinking about?" I whispered finally, realizing he wasn't going to tell me on his own. "You've been so quiet, even more than usual." 

"Jus' a lot to take in," he murmured. I waited, and eventually he continued, "Ain't so sure about yer plan. Migh' be better for you to find yer family, and then decide if ya want all of us there."

"I ain't gonna let ya go alone," he said when I started to protest, "But I can get ya there and then come back here. If you decide later ya want us ta come, after all, we can do that, but you'd have a choice. If we all go now, ya might . . . regret it."

I sat up halfway, staring down at him. "Daryl, I'm not going to regret keeping the people I love with me," I said incredulously. "And I'm not leaving anyone here or letting any of you leave once we get there. I want them all to know you, and you all to know them." 

His expression was still unreadable, but he nodded and tugged me down to lie next to him again. The bed was much softer than the prison bunks, but somehow I found it harder to get comfortable, and lay awake for hours worrying about what the next few days would bring. 


	39. Tattoo

__ How's one to know  
I'd live and die for moments that we stole  
On begged and borrowed time

The next morning we all submitted our full names, ages, previous occupations, addresses, and a list of any close relatives to the UN committee that had been tasked with our relocation. They had some working computers, but no networking, so our names had to be hand-checked against the list they'd compiled of folks who had family looking for them. A couple of new groups had been airlifted out of the GCZ that morning and were being housed in dorms on the floor underneath us, but we kept mostly to ourselves, wary of any strangers.

We spent the day learning more about what had happened in various regions of the country. The south had been less affected by the bombings but had suffered early on from walkers that escaped from Georgia. The east coast, Great Lakes region, and California were a mess because of the bombings, and then radiation poisoning that turned the region into a massive herd of walkers. The military had eventually sealed most of the hot spots off and then used explosives to destroy the majority of the dead but it was still a very dangerous area and cut off from all inter-region trade. 

The midwest was the most intact, but had fewer people and struggled to find resources beyond corn and beef, initially. They'd gradually adapted and Johann told us that most areas had thriving communities who'd pulled together. 

The northwest had also escaped the worst of the walkers and bombings and had good agricultural resources so communities had more or less pulled through. Unfortunately, wildfires had raged unchecked over the past summer because of the loss of resources with which to fight them, so massive areas had been wiped out, roads and bridges were impassable, and the states had become somewhat isolated, many local governments operating almost independently. In addition, medical care was a shadow of what it had been, so folks with significant medical needs had died in large numbers across the country. 

It was a challenge to get very far in this new world, we discovered. All fuel was rationed for trade purposes or the military, and most people stayed close to home. Canada was providing some fuel for humanitarian purposes and had an intact grid, but they'd closed their borders and were dealing with the chaos in their own country caused by the infection and the Chinese aggression. 

It sounded like that was the case in most of the world. Less developed nations in Africa, South America, and the Middle East were devastated by the infection, with fewer resources to fight it, and poor infrastructure to get folks the information they needed. Wealthier nations had handled the infection well but were caught up in resisting the Chinese and Russians, who had seized the opportunity to invade smaller countries and absorb them into their power bloc which now included North Korea. 

Japan was in a particularly precarious situation and European countries were rallying around them, which left the US to fight its own battles for the most part. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that there were countries with internet, electricity, and cell phones, while we barely had clean water, but reminded myself that this had always been the case - I had just lived in the wealthier nation and didn't have to struggle to survive.

Regardless of the country, however, it sounded as though the lack of international trade, the constant threat of the dead, and the crumbling of all economies had left even the more intact governments in a precarious state, and I could understand why it had taken so long for any rescue efforts to get underway. 

_____________

That evening, as we ate our meal of beans and rice, one of the UN representatives walked into the room with a slip of paper and got our attention. "We had our first matches to the inquiry list!" he announced, and a buzz went through the tables. A couple of the folks from Woodbury had been listed by relatives and were directed to report to a communications office in the morning. "Anastasia Brewer-Moreau?" the representative called out, and I raised my hand. "A Mr. John Brewer and Mr. Raphael Moreau have both listed you as missing. Do you recognize their names?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice and he instructed me to report to the same office in the morning, before leaving us. Carol hugged me, and I cried for what felt like the millionth time, in happiness. My father and husband were alive, which meant that there was a good chance the rest of the family had survived as well. 

I felt like my cells were buzzing with nervousness and anticipation, and I couldn't sit still. Daryl was deep in conversation with Rick, so I headed to the gym and ran on the treadmill for a while. I was used to a lot more physical exertion than we'd gotten that day and needed to tire myself out. After working up a sweat, I took a shower and headed back to our room. 

Daryl was already there, lying on the bed and staring at the ceiling. The detached feeling I'd noticed from the night before was more pronounced between us, and I wasn't sure what to do about it. It felt like he was pulling away, though I couldn't pinpoint anything in particular that he was doing differently. 

I crawled on top of him and kissed him, which he returned, if a little distractedly. I kissed my way down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as I went, and tugged his belt and pants open. He lifted his hips so I could pull them down, watching me closely, but didn't say anything. I kissed along the sharp V of his pubic bone, and ran my tongue across his abdomen, tasting the faint salt of his skin and breathing in the undefinable smell that clung to him even in this sterile environment. He'd stopped smoking ages ago, when it got too hard to find cigarettes, but it seemed like a hint of it lingered in the leather of his vest.

He was hard and ready, belying his neutral expression, and I took him in my mouth deeply, reveling in the hiss that escaped his lips, and licked up his shaft, swirling my tongue around the head of his cock. He’d never let me do this before, and I wondered how long it would be before he took control. 

I took him as deeply as I could, relaxing my throat and flicking my tongue along the underside of his shaft on the upstroke. "Shit" he grunted, hips jerking. He laced his fingers through my hair, and gripped the back of my head, thrusting into my mouth briefly before he pulled me off of him and flipped me over. He yanked off my clothes unceremoniously and pushed into me, burying his face in the crook of my neck and fucking me hard. 

I arched my back and wrapped my legs around his waist as he thrust more roughly and drew my nipple into his mouth biting down gently and sending electricity through my body. His hand snaked between our bodies and circled my clit, sending me into an orgasm quickly, just as he came with a grunted curse. 

As I lay next to him in the dark afterward, it felt like the distance between us had closed a little, but was still definitely there. I had almost drifted off when he said quietly in the dark, "Wanna give ya a tattoo. Jus' small, easy to cover on yer back or somethin'." 

I was caught off guard but didn't hesitate. "I want that too. When?" He rolled over to turn on the lantern again and got out of bed. "Right now," he said tersely, going to the small desk in the corner and pulling out ink and a couple of needles, along with some cloth and what looked like rubbing alcohol. He'd clearly been thinking about this, though he hadn't breathed a word of it to me. 

He had me lie on my stomach and he laid everything out, then cleaned my skin with the alcohol and began using the needle to push the ink in at the top of my right shoulder blade. I didn't ask him what the design was - I trusted him completely - but it didn't even take an hour to complete, and he didn't say a word the whole time. He took a gauze pad, rubbed some kind of salve over the tattoo, and carefully taped down the bandage. 

After he outed the light, I laid my head on his chest and wondered if that would fix whatever was wrong. "Y'ain't worried about what I put on there?" he asked roughly, and I shook my head. "No. I trust you. But I do want to see it when I can find a mirror tomorrow." He ran his hands through my hair and pressed a kiss to the top of my head but didn't respond before I fell asleep. 


	40. Contact

Daryl insisted that the tattoo stay covered for two days, and he cleaned it himself, reapplying the salve each time. When he finally let me look at it in the bathroom mirror, I found a tiny Sagittarius constellation on the top of my right shoulder blade. I brushed my fingers over the tender skin softly, in awe of the design he'd done from memory, and the skill it took to get the lines and stars so sharp. Daryl's brilliance was easy to overlook until he did something unexpectedly artistic like this, and of course, this one had intense meaning for me. 

I tried to tell him how much I loved it, but he brushed off the compliment and asked me not to show anyone, which kind of hurt. He was still pulling away, and I didn't know why, but it was interspersed with moments of connection that left me confused and often lonely. 

_____________________

It took several weeks to get our trip organized. The first step was for me to write a letter to my family letting them know that I'd made it out of Georgia and wanted to come home. They would need to apply for paperwork from the state of Oregon and from the county so that we could settle there. Once they sent the paperwork, the UN would set up as much transportation help as they could, and try to smooth the road for us getting through different regions, all of whom had separate protocols for travelers. 

I sat in the dining hall with pen and paper, trying to figure out what to write. How do you begin a letter to people who probably assume you're dead, and then casually work in a request for them to invite 10 other folks to live with them? Eventually, I decided to keep it fairly short and to the point. 

_ Dear Family,  
I have no idea how to begin this letter, except with gratitude that I am one of the lucky few to have been rescued from the Georgia Containment Zone a few days ago. They estimate that only 3% of the population survived, and the fact that I'm sitting in Denver writing to you is a miracle.  _

_ The story of the past 20 months will have to wait until I can tell you in person, but the important bit is this - I survived because of a group of people who came together in the midst of a living hell and learned to trust and care for each other. We formed a family, for lack of a better word, and we owe each other our lives.  _

_ The UN informs me that we need to have paperwork from the state in which we plan to relocate, allowing us to settle there, and I'm hoping you can make arrangements for all 10 of them, in addition to me. I know that's a lot to ask, but none of them have any other family left, and I cannot imagine breaking us apart if there's any way we can stay together. I've enclosed a list of their names, ages, former occupations, and anything else relevant so that you can apply for the appropriate permissions.  _

_ Please write me back as soon as possible, and let me know whether you are willing to welcome us all, and what has transpired at home since the outbreak started. I've imagined every possible scenario, including a complete loss, and I'm anxious to know what's happened.  _

_ Love,  
Ana _

I wrote a second letter to my husband, which was much harder. 

_ Raph:  
I'm writing this without knowing who survived and who didn't, but please kiss and hug the kids for me and let them know I've thought of them every day and kept fighting to get home. I'm sorry it took so long. _

_ I've already written to the family as a whole, which you probably know, but I needed to say some things to you privately as well before I get home. I have no idea how things have gone for you, or what you've done to survive, but I'm sure it hasn't been easy. You've had to make difficult choices, as I have, with lasting impact.  _

_ I can't really describe the horrors of what I've been through in a letter, but I want to warn you that it has changed me irrevocably. I don't know that I can quantify it, or that I'm even aware of all the ways, but I am decidedly different than when I left for that backpacking trip. Of course, there are parts of me that are still the same, but I've seen and done things that I never could have imagined before, and I know _ _I can't pretend to be the same person I was._

_ I still love you, along with the whole family, but I cannot pretend that we can go back to being a couple in the same way that we were. I fell in love with someone else in the midst of the horror, and I need you to know that before I get there. I want to still be a family, with the kids as our focus, but obviously, it will look much different than it did before.  _

_ I hope you are willing to accept me as I am and work to figure out a new sort of relationship. It's a lot to ask, and I wish things could be easier, but it is what it is.  _

_ Now give the kids more kisses and hugs from me and tell them I love them and will get home as soon as the paperwork goes through.  _

_ Love,  
Ana _

______________

The worst part of the facility in which we were housed was that there was very little work that needed to be done, so we were bored to tears. They provided books, but there were no electronic forms of entertainment because the electricity from the solar panels was conserved for lights and hot water. 

We spent most of our time working out plans for getting to Oregon or talking to others who were being housed there. We met folks from other communities who had managed to survive the GCZ and shared our stories. Apparently, there were some groups who had chosen not to leave, or who had been located but not rescued because it appeared they had been existing by attacking other groups, and even eating other humans. I sent more thanks to whoever was listening that I'd broken down in front of Daryl's trailer. 

Daryl continued to pull away emotionally, though he still came to bed every night and buried himself in me. It was the only time I felt like we were really in sync, and I knew he was avoiding me during the day. He spent a lot of time with Rick, who grilled anyone around for information on the states and communities we'd need to pass through to get to my family, and together they tried to plan for every eventuality. 

A week after I sent my letters, I received a reply. My mother had written that of course they were applying for residency papers for everyone in the group, and they would welcome them with open arms. They were all in shock when they received my letter, and would forever be in debt to the folks who helped me survive. They thought it would take about a week to process everything but there was plenty of space for folks to settle, as a lot of people had left to find family after the grid failed, and never returned. They'd lost my grandfather because of a lack of medical care, and some of my siblings had lost in-laws but my nuclear family was intact and all healthy, amazingly. 

There was a letter from my husband as well. It was brief, in his familiar scrawl:

_ Ana,  
I'm just glad you're okay. Everything else can be worked out.   
-Raph _

and below it:

_ Mommy,  
I knew you would come back! Daryl said so and I believed him, even though Daddy said you were gone. I love you and miss you and I cry every night because you aren't here. Please hurry.  
Love, Lucy _

__ Mommy,  
I missed you a lot. Did you learn how to fight? When you get home I never want you to leave.  
Love Luke

I was sobbing by the time I got to the end of the letter, tracing my children's uneven handwriting and trying not to let tears fall and blur the print. I had to search high and low to find Daryl but eventually tracked him down in the transportation shed with Rick. He took one look at my red eyes and I could tell he assumed the worst, but I held out the letter from my husband, and he took it warily. 

He turned away from me when he read it, and stood there for a moment before facing me. "And yer parents?" I nodded and held up the other letter. "They're applying for paperwork for everyone, and can't wait to meet you. Rick's face relaxed in relief, and he smiled at me. "I can't wait to meet them either," he said. "I'm going to go tell the others." 

"Aren't you happy?" I said quietly after Rick had left and Daryl still hadn't responded. His face softened slightly, and he nodded. "Yah. M'glad yer kids made it and yer family's all healthy." I shook my head in frustration, "Yes, but aren't you happy that we're going together, and we have a place to live? I thought you'd be relieved and glad to be moving on from here, but you're just . . . it's like you don't care at all." 

I knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as it came out of my mouth. Daryl's expression hardened and he narrowed his eyes at me. "I never met yer family so I ain't gonna be over the moon about livin' with folks who could turn out to be assholes," he spat. "I'll get ya back, like I promised, but I ain't promisin' I'll stay. Ya can't just force people into yer plans all the time - it ain't just about you." With that, he brushed past me and stormed out of the shed, leaving me bewildered. 

I sought out Rick after dinner and asked for a word with him. Michonne was sitting with him and stood to leave, but I motioned her to stay. "I just wondered if you had any insight into why Daryl's been acting so weird lately. I mean, it's hard to explain, he's just . . . it's like in some ways we're back to being strangers and in others, things are exactly the same. He even told me he wouldn't promise to stay once we found my family."

Rick and Michonne exchanged a glance, and he leaned forward over the table to speak quietly. "He doesn't' talk about it really, you know Daryl, but I think he's just preparing himself for the worst." When I started to respond, he held up his hand, "Not that your kids didn't make it, or some other family, but the worst as far as the two of you." 

"He thinks I'll leave him?" I asked incredulously and Michonne nodded. "Or maybe stay with him but wish you didn't have to. To be honest, all of us are a little anxious about throwing ourselves at the mercy of a bunch of people who might not like us much once they get to know us." 

"I _know_ they're your family," she continued seeing the look on my face, "but you can't just assume everyone's gonna get along. We're an odd bunch, that would hardly have ended up together if we hadn't gone through everything we did, and it's not going to be easy to assimilate into a larger community. He's just protecting himself, preparing for things to fall apart."

"What do I do?" I asked them. "I don't know how to reassure him, or you, because it's all so unknown. I can't predict exactly what will happen, I just have faith that eventually we'll work it out. I love them, I love him, I love all of you, and I'll keep doing that even if you hate each other. It would be hard, but it's not like I can't do hard things." 

Michonne put her hand over mine and squeezed, "Yes, but he doesn't want you to have to do hard things. If it looks like him being around is causing you problems, he won't stay." My stomach dropped at the thought of Daryl leaving me, but I knew deep down that she was right. "Promise me you won't let him leave, then." I pleaded desperately. "Rick, he listens to you. I will not be better off without him, even if it causes conflict. I can't . . . I can't imagine not being with him." 

Rick sighed, "I'll do my best, I promise. You know how he is though - not exactly forthcoming with what's goin' through his head." 

Daryl didn't come to bed that evening, and eventually, I turned out the light and laid there with my stomach in knots. After at least an hour, I heard the click of a key in the lock and he opened the door quietly, clearly expecting me to be asleep. I was on my side, facing the wall, and lay there quietly while he undressed and slipped in beside me. I knew I should talk to him, but I didn't know how to bring the issue up, especially without revealing that I'd talked to Rick about him behind his back so I just pretended to be asleep. 

He left a few inches between us in the bed for a long time, lying on his back, and he was so still I thought he'd drifted off when I heard him exhale softly, and turn toward me. He ran his hand lightly over my hair, then ghosted it over my hip, pressing a kiss to the tattoo on my shoulder before turning away. I gave it a moment and then rolled over toward him, still feigning sleep, and settled myself against his side. After a pause, his right arm came to rest on my lower back and I fell asleep, thankful for at least that small act of affection.


	41. Journey

_ So tell me to run  
Or dare to sit and watch what we'll become _

Once our papers came through, we were able to catch a ride from Denver to the Wyoming border on a truck that was carrying some letters and cargo and would be picking up items from Cheyanne. In Cheyanne, we had to wait a full day to have our paperwork processed, be interrogated by local officials, and then finally find a truck driver who was heading west, didn't have a full cargo load and was willing to take us for a price. The UN committee had given us items to trade, and tips on how to negotiate and reassure drivers that we weren't going to rob them, including official UN missives explaining that we had been thoroughly vetted. 

From Cheyanne, we headed on back roads to Cokeville, at the border of Wyoming and Idaho. We spent another day at the border, convincing them to let us in, and eventually managed to walk across. We camped that night just outside a truck stop, taking turns standing guard, and found someone to take us as far as Boise. 

Boise was bizarre - I'd been through it several times in the past and it was a bustling metropolis, but now it was practically deserted. There was a small cluster of stores and warehouses, guarded by some kind of militia, and an older woman informed us that most folks had moved away from the city after the bombings, afraid of being a target, and needing space to raise their own food. 

It took another day to find a trucker who had room and could take us to Portland, and that final leg took two full days to drive because so many main roads and bridges had been damaged in the fires. When we finally reached the Portland harbor on the Columbia, it was dark and we had to find a place to make camp. 

Portland had more people than Boise, but there were no cars on the streets, and the stores were almost all vacant. Lots of folks looked like they were squatting in abandoned houses, and the trucker we'd driven with told us we could use a house that was generally left empty for those driving the trade routes since he preferred to sleep in his truck. 

Daryl had stayed by my side throughout the trip, but he hardly touched me and spoke very little. We all crashed in the living room but while everyone else passed out from exhaustion, my brain raced and I couldn't relax. We planned to walk to my little town from Portland, which would take most of the next day, but at the end of it, I would get to hug and kiss my kids, and see the faces I'd missed every day for almost two years. 

I felt jittery with nerves, and I quietly left the living room and wandered the rest of the house, drifting through the rooms and trying to calm my mind. I was in one of the bedrooms upstairs, looking at the moon and pressing my face to the cold glass when I sensed someone behind me and turned to find Daryl in the doorway. 

"Sorry", I murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you, I just couldn't sleep." 

"Didn' wake me", he said quietly. We stared at each other across the room, and all the anxiety that had been building since the helicopter landed in the prison yard bubbled up inside me, pushing on my lungs and twisting my stomach. "Daryl, please," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "Please don't do this. We've survived so much, and now when we're almost through it, you're letting go. I miss you. I don't want to do this without you. Please." 

Tears were spilling down my face, and Daryl looked away, his shoulders tense. I was suddenly furious, and crossed the small room toward him, grabbing his shirt. "You don't get to shut me out!" I hissed. "Maybe you don't feel this the way I do, and maybe it's not worth all the trouble to you, but you don't get to just end this without ever saying anything! If you're giving up, you at least owe me an explanation."

That finally got a reaction from him. He jerked my hands off his shirt and shoved me back against the wall. "I don't owe you a damn thing," he said in a low voice. "It's not my fault ya feel the way ya do, and I ain't gonna apologize for bein' realistic. You can live in yer little fantasy land, but ya can't drag me along. I was doin' jus fine before you showed up, and if ya go back to yer husband and yer perfect little life, I'll be fine then too. You were a nice fuck for a while, and that's enough for me." 

I slapped him across the face, shocking us both. "Fuck you, Daryl Dixon," I gritted out, twisting to get out from where he had me pinned against the wall. His grip tightened, and then he was kissing me hard enough to bruise my mouth, pressing me against the wall. I gasped and bit down on his lip in response, then sucked the bite, tasting the sharp tang of blood. His hand wrapped around my hair and pulled, hard, and I arched my neck back with a small cry, pulling his hips against me harder. He'd never been this rough, and I knew his frustration was part of it, but I needed it like this. I was angry too, and frustrated at my inability to fix things, and I wanted some pain with the pleasure. 

Daryl ripped the neckline of my worn t-shirt, pulling it down my shoulder, and scraped his teeth along my collarbone. I dug my nails into his scalp and he groaned, picking me up and carrying me to the worn mattress on the floor. He tore open the rest of my shirt and pinched my nipples, tugging painfully and then soothing them with his tongue. I pushed his shirt up and he yanked it over his head, then tugged off my sleep shorts, and shoved two fingers deep inside me. 

"Ya shouldn' like it like this" he growled at me. "Y'shouldn' be soppin' wet when I'm rough enough to leave marks on ya." I arched my back and moaned when he bit down on my shoulder. "Not gonna apologize for what I like," I said breathlessly, and he bit down harder. 

"Fine," Daryl gritted out. "Don' cry to me about it tomorrow then." He pulled himself off of me and jerked me into a sitting position. "On all fours" he growled, and I obeyed. He ran his hands up my thighs and over my ass, and then gripped my hips tightly, and impaled himself in me so deeply that he bumped my cervix and I swallowed a yelp. He set a rough, frantic pace, slamming into me hard with every thrust, so tears stung my eyes. 

Every slap of his thighs against mine brought a wave of pleasure edged in pain, and I felt my walls tightening around him, though I tried to hold off the orgasm. I was still pissed and didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making me come so quickly, but I couldn't stop it. I clenched around him and cried out as spasms of intense euphoria spiraled through me, and he finished a second later, jerking me up until I was seated in his lap, his cock still buried inside me. 

His hands slid up my body until he cupped my breasts, and dropped his head into the crook of my neck and shoulder, breathing heavily. I reached up and laced my fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently and shuddering with the last waves of my climax. 

Daryl pulled us down to lie on the mattress, sweaty and still breathing hard, and we passed out without talking about what had just happened, or any of the other issues between us. I was pretty sure some small part of it had been worked through, but I was too tired to think about it any more that night. 

I woke up in the grey light of very early morning to find Daryl kissing the spot on my shoulder where he'd bitten hard enough to leave bruises and teeth marks that even broke the skin in a couple of spots, just to the right of his tattoo. His eyes met mine and I could see the apology lurking there, but I shook my head. "Feels good when you lick it," I murmured, and his expression cleared. 

"Hmmm. Feel good when I lick this too?" he rasped against my skin, flicking his tongue over the faint purple-red marks on my hips where he'd held me so tightly. I nodded, noting the soreness between my legs and wanting more. "Anything else hurt?" he asked knowingly, and I lifted my hips toward him wordlessly. 

He kissed inside my thighs and then gently parted my folds and ran his tongue along my slit, soothing and arousing me all at once. He used his tongue to make me come, then slowly fucked me with his fingers while I worked through my orgasm and he lowered his head again. "Daryl," I said breathlessly, tugging at his hair until he looked up at me. "Please. I want you inside me." He shook his head. "Jus' wanna make you feel good," he said, but I tugged him toward me until he relented, and crawled up my body, gently sucking my sore nipples into his mouth before kissing me deeply and sliding himself into me. 

I knew this was his apology, not for the rough sex, but for what he'd said the night before. It also felt like it might be a goodbye, and I couldn't let that be it. I tried to prolong it as long as I could, but I felt myself approaching the edge of another climax, and I found his lips so we could swallow each other's gasps as we came. 

I knew the others would be awake soon, if they weren't already, and I didn't have much time so I held him in place before he could roll off of me. "I love you," I said, gripping his arms tightly and holding his gaze. "And it's deeper and more real than anything I had . . . before. I don't want to lose you, even if it's hard for a while. Please promise you'll try." 

Daryl swallowed hard and then nodded. "I won' leave without talkin' to ya first," he said, and I knew that was as much as he could give me. 


	42. Homecoming

Everyone was still asleep downstairs, so I dug a clean bra and shirt out of my bag. After I was dressed, I found Daryl in the kitchen. He'd unearthed some of the energy bars we'd received from the Denver base out of his bag, and held one out to me wordlessly, sliding down to sit against the cabinets and eat his own. I could hear the group starting to stir, and I knew we wouldn't have any more privacy so I sat next to him and rested my head on his arm, closing my eyes and breathing him in for as long as possible. 

Michonne entered the kitchen and glanced at us without comment, grabbing an energy bar and a bottle of water for herself. We'd used the last of our resources to hire a horse and wagon so that Herschel could make the long journey, and Judith wouldn't have to be carried the whole way. The wagon was more of a cart, but we were able to pile our bags in it and make a comfy spot for Judith to lie. The owner of the horse sat astride and set a slow pace so we could keep up. 

It was a good 8 hours of walking, with pit stops and to give Judith a chance to toddle around occasionally. It was mid-afternoon by the time we reached the top of the hill that leads down to the main part of town, and I stopped to look out over the valley. "Is that it?" Rick asked, and I nodded, unable to speak. Somewhere down there were people I'd thought I might never see again, people who loved me but might not understand me anymore, people in whom I was putting all my trust without any guarantees it would work out. 

I felt Daryl's hand slip into mine, and I looked up at him. He didn't turn his head to me but squeezed gently, and I lifted my chin. "Let's do this," I said softly, and we made our way slowly down the hill toward Chehalis. The first part of town was fairly deserted; gas stations and stores along the highway sat abandoned, but as we got closer to the older part of downtown, I could see that they'd built walls between some of the buildings to section off several blocks. 

My old house wasn't far from there, but my mother had written that everyone lived on or near their property, which was on a country road outside city limits, so we bypassed the walled-off portion and followed smaller roads to skirt around the edges of the more populated areas. There were streets that appeared to be relatively normal, apart from the gardens and livestock in newly-fenced front yards, and homes that seemed to be occupied, but no one approached us as we made our way through. 

We reached the other end of town, and I took the familiar turn down the road my parents live on. We made our way down the small incline, and I could see their property ahead, which appeared to have been enclosed by makeshift walls, built of whatever scraps they could get their hands on. All of a sudden a gate opened and a small figure came barreling out, sprinting up the street toward me. I dropped what I was holding and ran toward Lucy, who had Luke hot on her heels. 

They crashed into me and we fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. I was kissing their tearstained faces over and over, and they clung to me until the rest of the family finally pulled them off. My brother yanked me to my feet and crushed me in a hug, followed by my sisters. My mother's tears soaked my hair, and my father wrapped both of us in his arms and kept repeating, "it's a miracle." 

After several noisy minutes of the happy reunion, my daughter tugged on my hand. "You didn't see Dad yet!" she said, and I looked up to see my husband standing slightly back from the rest of the group. He gave me a small smile and shook his head at my daughter. "It's okay sweetie, there's plenty of time," he told her, but I walked forward and hugged him tightly. 

"Thank you for keeping them safe," I said. "I missed all of you so much". He nodded, and then looked up the road. "I guess that's them?" he said, raising his eyebrows. I turned and saw that everyone else was also looking at the group, waiting to be introduced. They had stopped at the top of the road and I realized, with a sinking heart, that Daryl wasn't with them. 

"Yes," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. "That's most of them, anyway" I beckoned them closer, and then made introductions. Everyone shook hands, and then my mother asked us all to come inside, where she could start making dinner for everyone and we could figure out where we'd stay that night. 

"Where's Daryl?" I asked Rick, and everyone fell silent. They would have recognized his name on my list and from the video chats we'd had from the trailer, and he'd clearly made an impression on my kids. Rick cleared his throat uncomfortably. "He's just givin' you some space," he said, "but he said to tell you he'll come back in the morning." 

My stomach twisted at the thought of spending the night without him, but he'd promised he wouldn't leave without talking to me, and in some ways, it might be good to have a few tough conversations out of the way before introducing him. I could tell it was pretty obvious to my family that he was the one I was referring to in my letter to Raph, but they didn't say anything and the awkward moment passed.

My brother Jake, ever the networker, struck up a conversation with Rick and Michonne, and my mom and youngest sister helped Herschel get comfortable inside at the big farmhouse table. Jake's wife Mia, who had been his girlfriend when I left, showed everyone else where they could put their things. My parents have a big rambling farmhouse, and we learned that my Jake and Mia were living with them. 

My sister Jenny and her son Mason shared the house on the property next door, which they'd assimilated, with my other sister Daphne, and her wife Sarah and their kids. It appeared that my husband and kids were living even further down the road, so there were still a couple of available spaces in my parents' house for our group to sleep. 

After washing up and unloading our things, we gathered in the main living space and broke into smaller groups, tentatively getting to know one another. My kids hadn't stopped clutching my hands the whole time, and we piled on the couch, while my husband pulled up a chair. I smiled at him over their heads. "It's surreal. I've dreamed about this so many times, but they're so much bigger than in my head," I murmured. 

They told me all kinds of stories about the adventures they'd had, the scariness of the bombs being dropped and the grid failing, the way they'd struggled through the winter, and eventually moved closer to the rest of the family. My husband's father had passed away, and his mother was now living with his brother and his family in the next town over, so he didn't see her as much as he wanted to. Our old house was empty, but the neighbors were using the yard for their chickens and pigs, and Raph visited them occasionally and checked in.

We ate dinner spread out over the house, warm chicken and rice soup, and my mother's famous whole grain bread. It was the best thing I'd tasted in weeks, but my heart ached at the thought of Daryl alone in the dark while we sat in this cozy space.

After dinner, my daughter brought up the topic everyone had been avoiding. "Daddy said you might not live with us now. Is that true?" She had never been one to sugar coat things, but I could see the hurt in her eyes reflected Luke as well. I swallowed hard and pulled her toward me. "Well, that's kind of complicated, sweetie, and we still need to figure out a few things. But no matter where I live, I love you just as much as when we lived together. More, actually, because I worked so hard to stay alive and get back to you." 

She shook her head stubbornly, "Then why can't you come live with us and it can be like it was before? Why can't you love Daddy again?" Her big brown eyes were full of tears, but she was angry more than sad, and I knew she wouldn't let it go. 

"I do love Daddy, sweetie, it's just a different kind of love than before. When people go through hard stuff, it changes them, and sometimes it changes the way they love each other, especially if they don't go through it together." 

"Did it change the way you love us?" she asked, and Luke wouldn't look at me. "Definitely not," I said firmly. "I'm talking about the way couples love each other, not the way parents love their children. Marriages are complicated, and sometimes they can't keep going the way they did. But that doesn't mean we aren't still a family and we can't still be together. It won't be exactly the same, but," I tilted Luke's head to look at me, "we will be together, and that's all that matters." 

Lucy finally nodded, and I pulled her into a hug. "Just for tonight, how about I come home and stay with you, okay?" I said, looking at my husband, who nodded tightly. "Can I sleep in your room?" I asked Lucy. She smiled and Luke announced that he'd be sleeping in there too, and we moved past the difficulty for the time being. 

More folks joined us in the living room, and Rick gave a brief history of the time we'd spent together in Georgia, others filling in their perspective when needed. By the time we'd gotten to the rescue, it was late and my mother suggested we call it a night since we were tired after our long walk. 

I said goodnight to everyone and headed down the road with my kids and husband. They'd moved into the home of my parent's former friends who had left to try and find their children in California after the bombs, and never returned. It was a big house, and just as messy as I expected it to be; cleaning services clearly didn't exist anymore and Raph wasn't exactly a neat freak. 

My children pulled me all over the house, showing me their rooms, slingshot and 22 rifle (Luke), and guitar and pocketknife (Lucy). I settled them in Lucy's room, in a big bed we made on the floor together, and they fell asleep quickly. I couldn't stop thinking about Daryl, probably sleeping in the woods somewhere, and eventually went down to the kitchen to get myself a drink of water. 

My husband was sitting at the breakfast island, writing something in the light from the lantern he'd set there. They had some solar panels but used solar camping lanterns and candles as much as possible. He looked up when I entered, and smiled ruefully. "I hope you didn't have too much trouble getting them to settle down - I didn't want to interrupt," he said, stretching and standing up. "Want a glass of wine?" 

"Wow. It's been a while since I had that offered to me" I said with a laugh. "Sure. What happened to the winery, anyway?" He poured me a glass of my favorite vintage and explained that he still made wine on a smaller scale, but the winery itself was only used during production months. With the three side-by-side properties together, they now had 15 acres and were able to raise sheep, steer, pigs, chickens, cows, and goats for milk, and grow most of their vegetables and some grains. He'd converted a root cellar into wine storage and used it to trade for honey and other sweeteners, fabric, building materials, food for the animals, and other things they couldn't produce on their own. 

"It's really amazing, what you guys have done here, and the way you've kept everyone together," I told him. "I know it won't necessarily be easy to have all of us suddenly in your lives, but I hope we can find ways to be useful and fit in." He exhaled sharply and drained his glass before responding.

"I meant it when I said we'd figure it all out," he said, "but I don't really know how to handle this. If I'm being honest, it's pretty hurtful that you've just moved on. I mean, I was about there too, because I thought you hadn't made it, but apparently, you got over me a lot faster than I got over you if you're in a serious enough relationship that you're not even considering trying to get back together with me." 

I could see the pain in his eyes, and my heart hurt. "I can see why it would seem fast," I said, "but honestly I feel like I've lived an entire lifetime in the past 21 months. It was so intense, and I had to learn and grow and adapt so much, so quickly. And when you do that with other people, strong relationships form much faster than in ordinary times. I assume you figured out that Daryl is the one I fell in love with, and I want you to know that it didn't start early or anything. It wasn't until we'd been at the prison for a while, and after I'd gone through something really awful that I almost didn't survive." 

His eyes crinkled with concern, but I shook my head before he could ask. "It's not something I want to talk about, at least not right now," I said. "Suffice it to say that there were bigger monsters than the walking dead out there, and I suffered a lot because of it. And Daryl was the only reason I made it through that. I know you probably can't understand, but I'm asking you to accept it anyway, for me and for the kids."

He nodded, pouring another glass, and held out the bottle but I declined. "I'm going to accept it, I promise. I just . . . still love you. And when I look at you, I see the same person I fell in love with and married and it hurts." He blinked back tears, and I wiped my own away. 

"I still care so much about you," I said quietly. "You'll always be the person I spent a very happy decade and a half with, and who gave me the most beautiful children in the world. Nothing can take that away." He nodded, and I went back to Lucy's room to get a few hours of sleep. 


	43. Hard Conversations

I woke up early the next morning and went out to the gates but didn't see Daryl anywhere. My dad and Daphne were coming in from the morning milking, and I walked with them to my parents' house. Rick was talking with Jake on the porch and shook his head when he saw me. "I haven't seen him," he said before I could ask. 

My dad put an arm around my shoulders. "Come talk to your mother," he said. "He'll be here when he's ready, I'm sure." I let him lead me in the house, where my mother wrapped me up in a big hug and handed me a cup of strong black tea with a splash of milk and sweetener. "We can't get it as easily as we used to so we use it sparingly, but I suspect you haven't had your morning cuppa in a long time," she said with a smile. I breathed in the fragrant steam and savored every sip. I used to drink at least four cups a day, always preferring it to coffee to boost my energy. 

We ate breakfast, thick slices of toasted bread and butter, and scrambled eggs, and my dad offered to give everyone a tour of the property. My husband was headed to the vineyard to do some pruning and my kids and their cousins skipped along with the group, showing us all their favorite animals and where they practiced with slingshots or were building a fish trap. 

When we'd finished the tour, my brother showed us the platform they'd set up between the shed and the wall, where someone could keep a lookout. Things had calmed down recently, but for a while, there were a lot of people looking to start trouble or rob a farm like theirs, in addition to the occasional walker, and they'd had to be vigilant and build the wall along the exposed side of the property. Most people around knew that they were well-armed and capable, but knowing who was coming down the road was important. They almost never saw walkers anymore, which I was still having a hard time getting used to.

I climbed up to the platform and looked across the street, where my grandfather used to live, close enough for my parents to keep an eye on him but far enough that he had some independence. He'd passed away just a few months after the infection began, due to a lack of medical care for his heart issues, and the house was still vacant. My dad was discussing the possibility of using it for our group, but it desperately needed to be cleaned out, as he'd become a bit of a hoarder toward the end. 

"I'm pretty sure there are whole rooms full of paperwork and books," my dad was saying, "but it's a well-built house, and would give you a place to start, anyway," when I saw Daryl's familiar profile at the end of the road. The anxiety at the pit of my stomach eased slightly, and I jumped down and ran for the gate. 

I hurried up the road to meet him, and he slowed somewhat as I approached. His face was guarded, giving away nothing, but I didn't care. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his shirt, breathing him in. "You didn't have to go," I said, lifting my head to look him in the eye. 

He chewed on the inside of his lip, which I noticed was bruised from where I'd bitten him, and shrugged. "Seemed like ya needed time to get reacquainted without any more awkwardness," he said quietly, and I slipped my hand into his. "Well, gear yourself up for awkward because I don't think we can get around it," I warned him. "But they all genuinely want to meet you. They know I wouldn't be here without you. And Raph isn't here at the moment, so that can wait." 

Daryl relaxed slightly and nodded, walking beside me toward the farm, but pulled his hand from mine and I knew he was nervous. It was, undoubtedly, awkward as we made our way to the gate where most of the family had now gathered, and I was glad Raph wasn't there yet. My father walked forward and grasped Daryl's hand, introducing himself and thanking him for taking me in and keeping me safe, followed by the rest of the adults. 

Daryl, never good with compliments, frowned and just muttered, "yeah, wasn' a big deal' until Rick finally spoke up. "Daryl is definitely to thank for keeping Ana alive, especially at the beginning, but the truth is that we all saved each other more than once," he said. "Without Ana we wouldn't have made it through that second winter, when there were fewer things to scavenge. She had the whole farming and food preservation operation figured out, and she's a wealth of knowledge about herbs and natural remedies. Honestly, we're all in debt to each other, and now to you for taking us in. And," he said with a grin, "Daryl's gonna bolt if you keep making a fuss over him." 

"Okay, okay," my mother said, pulling the gate shut. "Let's get him inside and fed, and then Ana can show him around while the rest of you take a look at Grandpa's house." Daryl followed her into the house, and she set him up with a bowl of leftover soup while I took his bag into the guest room. 

After he'd eaten and had a chance to wash up, we walked out toward the edge of the property where the creek ran, and as we crossed through the fields I pointed out the different houses and who lived in them and gave him a recap of what my dad had shown us that morning. He listened without comment, but as we got to the creek we heard the kids' voices and he slowed up. "Hang on," he said, tugging my hand so I came to a stop. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously and looked down at me through the shaggy hair falling in his eyes. 

"Jus' tell me honestly," he said, "how this is gonna go. If there's even a little part a you that thinks ya could get yer family back the way it used to be, I need ta leave and let you do that. I need you to be happy no matter what, even if it means leavin'." 

I stood on my toes and laced my fingers around the back of his neck. "Not a single cell in my body wants you to leave or wants to rekindle something with Raph. I barely slept last night because you weren't here, and I was terrified you wouldn't show up this morning. I can't tell you how it's all going to go, but my kids know that things will be different, and Raph says he is grateful that you got me home, and he'll accept this even if it's difficult." 

I tried to pull his head down toward me and after a moment he gave in, leaning in to kiss me softly. I slid my hands up his chest, grounded by his steady presence, and he deepened the kiss until we heard a twig crack behind us. We turned around to find my kids and their cousins, ranging in age from two to fourteen, watching us with slightly disgusted expressions. 

"Well," I said. "I guess now is when you meet the kids. This is Luke and Lucy, whom you spoke with on the phone ages ago, and their cousins Sammi, Jonathan and Louisa, who are Daphne and Sarah's kids, and Mason, who is Jenny's son." Daryl nodded toward my kids, and Lucy stepped forward. 

"Thanks for keeping my mom safe, but no thanks for stealing her from my dad," she said bluntly. "Lucy!" I admonished her, "We've talked about this. That's not the appropriate way to talk to Daryl - you can be upset, but you talk to me about it." 

She ignored me, staring daggers at him, and Daryl stared right back, sizing her up and realizing she wasn't going to give him a break. "S'okay," he said gruffly to her. "Don' need ya ta like me, long as yer nice to yer mama." She took a small step back, hands on her hips, but let it go for the moment. 

Luke, who was at the awkward early preteen stage, reached out his hand to shake Daryl's, and said solemnly, "Thanks for keeping your promise." Daryl nodded and shook his hand, and then Luke's eyes fell to the weapon slung across his shoulders. "Can I shoot your bow?" he asked excitedly, and Daryl almost smiled. "Not righ' now, but I'll show ya later if yer mom says it's okay," he promised, and Luke ran back toward the creek with Mason to find stones for their slingshots, awkwardness forgotten.

We walked back to the gate, to join the others at my grandfather's old house, and Daryl looked over his shoulder where Lucy was still watching us, hands on her hips. "She always that direct?" 

I sighed, "Yes, since she was a toddler. She just doesn't feel the need to tiptoe over other people's feelings, and lets hers run wild, enough to smack her brother or cousins on occasion. Sometimes that kind of fierceness is a good thing, when she needs to stick up for herself or others, and sometimes it needs to be tempered. She's feeling defensive of her daddy, I think, and I can't blame her too much for it. But it'll mean a lot of long conversations for the two of us as I help her work through it, and she'll probably be pretty icy toward you, at best." 

He looked down at me walking next to him and bumped me gently with his elbow. "Kinda reminds me a you, when ya got pissed and decked Andrea," he said with a grin, and then turned more serious. "Yer a good mom," he said quietly. "I knew ya would be, but . . . it's good to see ya with them." 

_______________

My grandfather's house was, as promised, full of stuff, but there would be plenty of room once we got things cleared out, and there were some outbuildings that could hold things temporarily. We managed to get the living room and kitchen emptied, which meant that everyone could sleep there, rather than at my parents' house, though we'd all be crammed in together. 

We were in the midst of carting boxes of old records and paperwork to the garage when I saw Raph coming down the road on his bike. Bikes were apparently the main way to get around if you needed to go further than a short walk, and he'd taken one up to the vineyard. He saw us working at the house, but he didn't come over and I knew he was delaying the inevitable awkward conversation with Daryl. 

When it was dinnertime, we washed up and headed across the street. The rest of the group headed indoors, but Daryl started to walk toward the barn, and I caught his sleeve, confused, before I saw Raph standing there, clearly waiting to talk to him. I hesitated, unsure of whether I was supposed to stay, but Daryl pushed me toward the house. I slipped inside and peeked shamelessly through the front window to watch their conversation. 

Daryl approached Raph slowly, but Raph stuck out his hand, and Daryl shook it. I could see Raph talking and Daryl nod, but I couldn't read his lips. Raph stuffed his hands in his front pockets, and Daryl crossed his arms, and I chewed my lip nervously. Daryl was clearly uncomfortable here, and I hoped he wouldn't lose his temper if Raph said something insulting. After few minutes, Raph rubbed his hands over his face, shook his head, and then headed for his house, rather than my parents', and Daryl walked slowly to where I waited inside. 

I heard a heavy exhale next to me and realized Jenny had been spying on them too. "That could have been worse", she said, smiling encouragingly, and I had to agree. If Daryl could hold his temper, Raph would probably behave himself and we could get through this.


	44. Wine

My kids wanted me to sleep with them again, and Daryl forced my hand by telling them I would. I was pretty sure it was a blatant attempt to get on their good side, and it worked, but I really missed sleeping next to him. 

Raph had skipped dinner and was most of the way through a bottle of wine by the time the kids and I got to the house. They fell asleep quickly again, and I went downstairs to see if he was okay. He was sitting in the dark living room and had opened another bottle. He was usually a happy drunk, and I figured if there were ever a time to drink it was probably when you'd just had an awkward conversation with the guy who'd been fucking your wife. 

I got myself a glass and poured a little wine, sipping slowly as I sat on the chair across from him. "Thanks for not making it any harder than it has to be," I said sincerely, but he snorted. "Has to be? Are you implying that this isn't a choice you're making?" 

"Some parts of it are a choice, and some are because of things I didn't choose," I said evenly. He shook his head wearily and leaned back in his chair. "It's just fucked up. He makes no sense for you. You're the smartest, most articulate person I know, and you're hooking up with this guy who barely strings two words together? What the fuck is that?" 

I stood up, refusing to engage with him in a conversation about Daryl. "You don't know anything about him and I'm not discussing him with you. If you need to talk about the kids, or about us, I'm here but otherwise, I'm going to bed." 

He got to his feet unsteadily and shook his head. "Fine. I won't insult him, but I'm not going to pretend to 'get it' either -" he stopped short and peered at my shoulder, where the loose t-shirt I'd put on for bed had slipped to the side. "What the fuck happened there? Were you bitten!?" 

I tugged my shirt over the mark and shook my head, "not that kind of bite, don't worry," I said, stepping around him toward the stairs, but he blocked my way and yanked my shirt over so he could look more closely. "Jesus, he really is a caveman," he breathed, looking at me in disgust. "You let him do that to you? What the fuck is wrong with you?" He caught a glimpse of the tattoo and pulled the shirt backward to look. "What the fuck is this?" I could feel the familiar bubble of panic welling up in my stomach, and the iron clamp around my lungs, and I realized I was alone with him and he was blocking my exit. 

I stumbled back and wrapped my arms around my torso. "P-please let me leave," I stuttered, and he looked at me, startled, but stepped immediately to the side so I could get to the stairs. The panic lifted slightly and I bolted but stopped halfway up when he said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." 

"I know," I said, not turning around. "It wasn't you, not really. Just stuff from before that triggers me sometimes." I left him in the dark and went to snuggle the kids and doze restlessly until morning. 


	45. Moving On

I knew Daryl was trying to give me time and space to be with the kids, and most of the time I appreciated it, but I wasn't sleeping and it was starting to get to me. The third night I started to argue, but he took my kids' side in pressuring me to sleep there again, and I didn't know how to turn them down without causing more hurt feelings. 

I planned to stay upstairs with the kids, rather than have a repeat of the night before, but my husband asked if we could talk, and said he'd invited Jenny to be there so I'd be more comfortable. It was thoughtful of him, and I felt I owed him at least a few conversations if it helped him deal with the end of our marriage. 

I put the kids to bed, and then went downstairs. They'd built a fire in the fire pit on the patio and were sitting out there bundled in blankets, probably so I'd feel less trapped. I joined them and took the glass Jenny handed me. I peered at the amber liquid and raised my eyebrows. "Bourbon," she explained, "we save it for the really difficult stuff," and I laughed. "Fair enough," I said, sipping cautiously. 

Raph ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Look, last night I was an ass and I'm sorry. I was just feeling pissed off and I'd had a lot to drink, and I didn't handle it well. I don't really know how to do this and there's isn't exactly a handbook. But I think we need to have a real conversation about a few things just to get it all out there." 

He glanced at my sister, who nodded encouragingly. "Alright, to start with, I think I can honestly say that I'm not head over heels in love with you anymore, and I'm not going to try and win you back or anything. Not sure whether you were worried about that, but there it is. I'd basically grieved you and was moving on, and then all of a sudden you weren't dead and it threw me for a loop. I think maybe I'm still grieving for our old life, but that's not just about you. Everything has changed, and I'm constantly thinking about what we lost, including my job and whole way of life, and it's overwhelming sometimes." 

I nodded and sipped my drink, wondering where this was going. "Second, it's none of my business what you do with him and I honestly don't want to know. I flipped out last night because it hit me that what you have with him isn't what you had with me, and it was . . . not even jealousy really, just this sense that maybe I never really knew you." 

"That's not true," I said quickly. "You just don't know me _now_ , at least not some parts of me."

He nodded, taking another drink. "Yeah, I kinda figured that out last night after the booze wore off. And that's the third thing. I don't need you to tell me everything, but can you help me understand what your triggers are so I don't set them off again? For that matter, so no one sets them off."

I swallowed another burning mouthful and set down my glass, twisting my fingers into the blanket I'd wrapped around me. I felt the familiar anxiety twisting in my gut, but I wanted to help them understand, and they were people I could trust. "I was . . . captured, by this guy who had another community kind of close to where we were. He pretended to be this really great leader, but he was sadistic and had some really awful people working for him. Anyway, he wanted information about our group, and he captured Maggie and me and tried to get us to give up the information." 

"Neither of us would talk, so he thought he'd hurt one of us to make the other cave, and it was me that he picked to hurt because I pissed him off the most. Of course, Daryl and Rick and Glenn and Michonne were doing everything they could to find us, but by the time they did he had used a knife to . . ." 

I curled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, trying to stop myself from shaking. "He raped me with a knife. 'Penetration with a foreign object' as it says in the criminal code. Sliced me up pretty badly, but before he could do any more Daryl got there and shot the guard, who was holding me down." 

I knew I could stop the story there, but I wanted to confess the whole thing so that if they were going to accept me for who I now was, they would know all of it. "Once my hands were free, I took the knife he had used on me and I ripped open his throat with it before Daryl could do anything. There was just," I closed my eyes, remembering," . . . a river of blood all over me, but I wanted to watch him die. And then I stabbed his head over and over until it started to come apart . . . Daryl had to cover me up and practically carry me out of there, and he and Maggie had to try and stop the bleeding in the truck by putting pressure on the wounds. I was screaming and trying to get away from her because of the pain and Daryl had to hold me down . . . and then I passed out and they didn't know if I'd make it. Herschel stitched me up and . . . and now when I'm alone with a man and I feel trapped, sometimes I lose my shit."

I finally looked up and saw their faces in the firelight, streaked with tears. Jenny, a rape survivor herself, walked over and wrapped her arms around me, soaking my hair with her tears. We stayed like that for a minute, and then she pressed a kiss to the top of my head and sat back down. 

Raph wiped his face with his sleeve. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I know that means fuck all, but if I had known you'd go through that I would have driven down there and refused to leave until they let me through the border." 

I shook my head, "You know perfectly well they would have shot you. And then where would the kids be? And anyway, I survived and I'm here now. Does it . . . does it bother you that I killed him?" 

My sister looked at me thoughtfully over her drink. She was a pacifist, through and through, as was Raph, and at one time I'd considered myself to be as well. "Not in the sense that I think you're a bad person or something," she said. "But I wish you hadn't had to do it. And to be honest, it's hard to imagine you doing that, at least in such a violent way. But it doesn't change the way I love you or how proud I am of you." 

Raph nodded. "That goes for me too. And it helps me understand some of the ways you're different than you used to be. And how something that intense could form a pretty strong bond between people." 

I rested my elbows on my knees and finished the last of my drink. "Was there a fourth part of this talk?" I asked, and Raph and Jenny looked at each other before he nodded. "Yeah. Well, more just something I wanted you to be aware of. Jenny and I had started spending more time together before we got your letter. Nothing we've really defined yet, but we're sort of exploring the possibility."

I looked at the two of them and realized that they had changed a lot too, with everything they'd gone through. A couple of years ago their personalities clashed regularly - Jenny thought Raph should be more responsible and he thought she was uptight - but now they'd been molded by their circumstances into more compatible people. I smiled at them and got up from my chair, setting my glass down on the edge of the fire pit. 

"I'm really happy for you," I said, giving them both hugs. "You have my full support, even if it's kind of weird." My sister elbowed me gently. "Let's not go there - weird doesn't begin to describe you and Daryl." 

"Speaking of which," Raph cleared his throat, "I think you guys should take the camper van. You could park it over at the house you're clearing out and it would give you your own space. Daryl doesn't seem to be into the whole crowd thing." 

I could tell he was still uncomfortable discussing Daryl, but he was really trying and I appreciated the effort. We'd purchased a converted Sprinter van several years before, for weekend trips to the coast, and it was a cozy space with a comfortable bed that would be nice and private until Daryl and I had something more permanent. 

"Thank you, that's a really great offer. And perfect timing, because I'm not getting much sleep on the floor with the kids" I said, heading back in for a last sleepless night. 


	46. Camper

It took a full week to clean out the house, and find mattresses and linens for everyone. I felt a little guilty that Daryl and I got to sleep in the camper while everyone else crashed on the couches and floor, but I was so exhausted after several nights of very little sleep, that I didn't think about it too much. I was almost asleep before Daryl climbed onto the platform bed that first night, and I burrowed into him and murmured, "M'sorry, I'm so tired, I just have to sleep." I felt his chest move in a low rumble of a laugh but was out before I heard him answer. 

We all ate our meals at my parents' house for the time being, since we hadn't stocked the kitchen at our new house yet, but I learned that the rest of the family usually ate on their own and only gathered for dinner a couple of times a week. I was slowly beginning to see how things could fit together - we could use my grandfather's land to add some crops for feeding the animals, and maybe raise bees. The forest behind it would be good hunting grounds for Daryl. We could all pitch in with the more labor-intensive chores like milking and processing it into dairy products, or when it was time to butcher an animal. I could eat dinner with the kids a couple of times a week, and work with them around the farm.

The house had space enough that everyone could fit, but eventually, we'd need to build or find a couple more spots. If Daryl and I had our own place, the kids might eventually feel comfortable enough to spend the night or at least hang out over there. 

Daryl climbed into bed next to me while I thought about all the possibilities the second night in the camper. "Pretty sure you were asleep 'fore you stopped talkin' last night," he said, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at me. "Feel better today?" I nodded and realized it had been days since he'd touched me, other than the kiss in the field. 

Daryl was a private person at the best of times, and he constantly had his guard up now, especially since we were kind of under a microscope with my family. That, combined with the fact that I was spending lots of time with my kids meant that this was the first opportunity we'd had to connect physically and I felt suddenly, and ridiculously, insecure. 

He must have sensed it, but he didn't say anything, just ran his hand through my hair absently, and then tugged the neck of my shirt over so he could look at my bruised shoulder. It had faded considerably, and just had a faint imprint and yellow-green tinge in bright light, hardly visible in the dim glow from the lantern. He pressed a kiss to it and I closed my eyes, remembering the intense sensations from our last night together when we'd worked out frustration and anger through sex. 

His thumb brushed against my nipple, which had hardened at the memories, and he hummed appreciatively. "I guess you aren't tired enough for bed yet, then?" he asked innocently, scraping his nail across it again, and I shook my head. 

"What's the matter - thirsty?" he asked, tugging gently on the other nipple, the rough fabric of my shirt rubbing against it. I shook my head no. 

"Hungry?" - _scrape_. "No? Need a bedtime story?" - _tug_. "Hmm, not that. Lullaby?" - _scrape_. "Need ta take a piss?" - _tug_. 

He knelt over me and slowly pushed my shirt up over my bare chest, exposing me to him. "Then how am I going to get you ready for bed?" he teased, cupping my breasts and twisting my nipples the way he knew would drive me crazy. 

"Fuck, Daryl," I moaned, more turned on than I wanted to admit at his patronizing dirty talk that was playing off my shyness. He brought his lips down to my ear and whispered, "Watch yer language, young lady. Is your pretty pussy too wet to fall asleep?" and I nodded, lifting my hips up to get the message across. 

"Hmmm. Do you need me to help ya out?" he rasped against my neck, still not touching me where I needed it. "If so, yer gonna have to ask me nicely, with yer best manners."

He tilted his head to meet my eyes, checking to make sure I was okay with this, and I nodded, pupils blown, core throbbing. 

"Good," he said, leaning back on his heels. "Now sit up, and show me where ya need help. If you show me exactly where and ask real nice, maybe I'll take care of ya." 

I bit my lip and pushed my legs under me until I was in a sitting position, legs splayed in front of me. I hooked my hands under the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down along with my panties, watching Daryl's face carefully to see if I was on the right track. 

He had schooled his face into a neutral expression, but his eyes were dark with desire and I could feel myself getting wetter. I pushed my shirt up over my breasts again, and leaned back on my elbows, slowly parting my knees. 

"Gonna need to be more specific, sweetheart," Daryl said, his voice rough. "Use your words and your fingers to show me."

I ran one hand down between my legs and used my fingers to spread my folds apart, slipping them through the wetness, and arching my back at the sensation without meaning to. "I . . . I need you to help me right here, please. 'Cuz I'm so wet and my pussy is aching and I can't sleep." 

My voice was high and breathless, even without trying to make it sound more innocent, and he practically growled, pulling my fingers from my pussy and tugging me up toward him. 

"Good girls," he said, sucking my slick fingers into his mouth one by one. "Don't touch their wet pussies." I ducked my head and looked up at him through my lashes. "I'm sorry," I whispered. "I didn't know. I won't do it again." 

Daryl took my hands and guided them to the small shelf that ran along the top of the camper over the curtained windows, so I had to get up on my knees to reach. "Your hands stay here," he said, wrapping my fingers around the edge to grip tightly. "Don't move them, or I stop." I nodded nervously, and he shifted so he was seated against the pillows and I was braced over him, unable to sit down in his lap without letting go of the shelf. 

He began teasing my nipples, tugging and rolling one between his fingers while he sucked and gently scraped his teeth against the other, at a frustratingly slow pace. I whined and tried to shift so I could press my core against him, but he stopped what he was doing and gripped my hips tightly. "Huh-uh. You gotta be patient if ya want me to make ya feel better," he ordered, and I gritted my teeth and held still. 

It was torture, little waves of pleasure that he pulled through me with his ministrations, but never enough for any satisfaction, and I whimpered at each touch. I could see that his cock was rigid and throbbing, glistening with pre-cum and I knew he was as ready as I was, but determined to make us wait. 

Eventually, the pressure built so much that my thighs were shaking with the effort of holding my body up, and tears of frustration were building at the corner of my eyes, but I didn't let go. He slid around behind me and ran his hands up my stomach, cupping my breasts and rolling my nipples as he spoke, voice low. "You were so good baby, holding still and dripping over my cock so patiently. Good girls get to feel better." He trailed his fingers through my soaked folds and ghosted over my clit. "Jesus," he muttered as my hips jerked in response, and his hard length slid between my slick thighs. 

I couldn't help the moans and breathless whining that I made, pressing back as much as I could while keeping my hands where he'd told me to. He made me wait several more seconds, using feather-light touches to drive me even more crazy. Then, without warning, he grabbed my hips tightly, buried himself inside me, and slid his wet fingers firmly across my clit, cursing quietly and pressing his forehead to my shoulder blade. 

I came immediately, almost sobbing with relief, and thankful we were in our own space where I didn't have to worry about the noise, provided no one was outside. He fucked me hard through my orgasm, immediately building another climax. The position was almost painful after so long on my knees, but his body pressed behind me took most of my weight, and his iron grip held my hips, pulling them back to meet every thrust. 

I tipped over the edge of bliss again, and he finally came with a growled "Jesus fucking Christ!" My fingers were still gripping the edge of the shelf, and he gently pried them off, massaging them gently to get the blood flowing, and lowered me down to the bed. I was a shaking, sweaty mess, but he smoothed my hair back from my face and kissed away the tear stains. He cleaned me up, moving my legs and shifting me into a more comfortable position, and then lay next to me and pulled me in to rest my head on his chest. 

"You okay?" he said quietly, running a hand down my back. "More than okay," I said in a shaky voice, and his chest rumbled in a quiet laugh. "You're way too fuckin' good at that innocent shit," he said. "That what you were like at fifteen?" 

I shook my head, tracing absent patterns on his hip and side. "At fifteen using the word 'pussy' would never have crossed my mind," I admitted. "I barely even knew that foreplay existed. I learned about it in a book that my mom didn't know I was reading when I was sixteen. I never even . . ." I was suddenly mortified at my sheltered adolescence, "I never even touched myself until after I'd started having sex so I had no idea what I liked. And clearly, I'm still figuring that out." 

Daryl's hand slowed and came to rest on my lower back. "You've only been with two people?" he said quietly. "Yeah. I mean I told you I didn't really date before Raph, right?" I said. "And we never . . . I mean, it was always very vanilla. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but it wasn't something I craved, like I do with you." 

"I guess I jus' didn' really think about it like that," he said. "You were always comfortable with whatever I did, didn' think about it bein' new." 

"I just . . . trust you." I said finally, "and that turns me on more than anything, I think. Letting you do whatever you want, not being the one to decide everything, or overthink it. It's the only time in my life I'm _not_ thinking, really, just feeling and reacting, and everything you do just makes me want more." 

He rolled over, hovering above me, and traced my lips with his index finger, clearly working through what he wanted to say. "I never . . . I mean, I've been with plenty a people, but always jus' casual fucks. It . . . was never like this, ya know?" 

I nodded, aware that it was closest he'd probably get to saying he loved me. "Yeah," I whispered. "And I never did the casual thing, but I still didn't know it could be like this. Everything you do turns me on, even if it's pushing me out of my comfort zone." 

"You'll tell me if I do somethin' y'don like?" he asked, and I nodded. "I will, I promise. But I think you already know my limits somehow." We didn't usually address my trauma directly, but it was clear that he'd thought about it. He never restrained my hands - even when control of my body was central to what he was doing, I was always able to move them if I wanted to, like tonight. 

And as much as I loved the sex itself, him cleaning me up and putting me back together after I fell apart was a big part of why I liked letting him control me. It felt like I could let go of everything and he'd make sure I was okay in the end. I didn't know if that was something I always would have liked, or if being in the midst of an apocalypse had changed me, but I didn't care. I needed what he gave me, he needed what I gave him, and nothing else mattered.


	47. Signs

That spring was the happiest I'd ever been, despite all the chaos and struggle just to put food on the table each night. We worked hard all day on the farm and fixing up the house, but all of it was spent with people I loved, including my children. We'd settled into a tentative schedule of dinner at their house three nights a week, just me, Raph, and the kids, and they seemed to accept that I'd leave at the end and sleep in the camper. 

Daryl accepted it as well, though I suspected he wasn't thrilled that so many evenings were just the five of us in a kind of shadow of our old family unit. I hoped that eventually, when we had a bigger space, the kids could spend time with us and get to know Daryl more but that wasn't practical in the tiny camper. 

Daryl and Raph didn't interact much but worked together when they needed to and it seemed civil, if strained. Daryl didn't ask much about the conversations Raph and I had those first few nights, and I chose not to tell him about the mild panic attack, not wanting to cause any more reason for them to dislike each other. It seemed like Raph and Jenny were spending a lot of time together, and I hoped that worked out but didn't ask too many questions. 

We learned that about 30% of the area's population had died during that first year, from health issues that didn't get addressed, the fires, the dead, and starvation or exposure. Another 20% had left to find family in other areas, or move in with folks to have more support, much as my family had done. We were in a particularly good spot, with all the flat land for farming and the forest that started toward the back of my grandfather's property and continued up the slope of the coastal mountain foothills. The land had originally been private property, but almost everyone had left their secluded homes and it was a good hunting ground these days. 

I fell into a routine of working with my family in the mornings, helping with the milking and processing the dairy products, as well as feeding animals and mucking out stalls or weeding the garden. The afternoons were spent clearing out the house initially, and then helping till and plant the open part of my grandfather's land (which we'd started to call our own) with alfalfa and timothy hay. My parents hadn't had enough space to grow crops for the animals and had been trading for their food, so we were excited to be able to provide something so needed. 

Daryl split his time between helping on our new property and hunting, as well as restoring some of my grandfather's old tools that he thought could be useful. He was still guarded around my family, but I was pretty sure he genuinely liked them, and he and my father had gotten to know each other fairly well. My father is constantly looking for new things to learn and was thrilled at Daryl's tracking and hunting skills. They spent many mornings in the woods, and Daryl was slightly amused, but pleased, at my dad's enthusiasm. 

Daryl also fixed up an old pickup that he converted to run on a sort of biodiesel that was being produced by local folks. It was expensive, so we rarely used it, but it was useful for hauling bigger things occasionally, and if the industry kept growing there would likely be more auto travel in the near future. 

_____________

It started with more frequent headaches, which I initially attributed to allergies. I'd always struggled with hay fever in the spring, and headaches often went along with it. But then my breasts got sore, especially my nipples, and Daryl commented that they looked bigger. "I think I'm about to get my period," I explained, "sometimes that's part of my PMS." 

This was true, but at the back of my mind, it occurred to me that I hadn't had a period in a few months. At the prison, it had been common to have very irregular menstrual cycles due to malnutrition, and mine had been almost nonexistent for a while, but we were eating a fairly healthy diet these days, with the garden producing abundantly, and Michonne had mentioned just the other day how she, Beth, and Maggie's cycles had synced up now that they were living together.

I didn't think I could possibly be pregnant unless Daryl was lying about his vasectomy, which didn't make any sense, but when I started to feel nauseous upon waking up in the mornings, I went to find Herschel and discuss it with him. 

"Do you think it could be some kind of ovarian cancer or something?" I asked nervously. He shook his head slowly, "I have no idea, and no way of figuring it out with the supplies I've got here. But why don't you do a pregnancy test just in case. Vasectomies do have a failure rate, you know," he warned. 

It was positive, and I sat in shock for several minutes staring at the two pink lines. The thought of telling Daryl made my nausea worse, and I had to put my head between my legs to stop the dizziness. He didn't want kids - had taken drastic steps to prevent himself from having them - and we were just settling into a routine in a place that was unfamiliar and uncomfortable for him. I imagined every possible reaction - from abandoning me to being thrilled, though I knew the latter was unlikely at best. 

That night, as we lay in the dark in post-orgasmic bliss, I tried to approach it as matter-of-factly as possible, connecting all the dots so he wouldn't have to. "After your vasectomy," I began carefully, "did you use condoms anyway, for other reasons?" There was a brief silence, as Daryl probably tried to figure out where the question came from. "Yeah," he finally responded. "Didn' wanna end up like Merle, gettin' the clap regularly." 

"Yeah, that makes sense," I continued, pressing on despite the anxiety building in my stomach. "I mean, it was a good thing, since vasectomies have a failure rate of 1 in 1,000 overall. Higher if the doctor isn't a specialist." 

The silence that fell on the camper after that comment was almost suffocating. Daryl rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. "What the fuck are you getting at?" he asked quietly. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, gathering all my courage. "Well, yours must not have been successful, because I'm pregnant. And I know you didn't want kids, and I certainly wasn't planning on having any more, but . . . but maybe this could be a good thing. I mean, once you've had some time to get used to the idea." 

He was motionless next to me, and I opened my eyes and turned to look at him. He was staring past me, his expression unreadable in the dim light from the lantern. "Daryl," I tried tentatively. "I'm . . . I'm sorry to spring it on you, but I found out today and I didn't want to hide it. I know we can figure it out." I reached down to lace my fingers through his, and that snapped him out of his daze. 

He jerked his hand away, and slid off the bed, pulling on his clothes. I knew he might need some space, but I wanted him to at least give me some sort of response before taking off, so I reached out to touch his shoulder as he laced his boots. "Daryl, please say something," I begged. "Just, tell me you'll be back after you've had a chance to think about it, so we can figure out what we're going to do." 

His head turned toward me, and his eyes were startlingly cold, jaw and fists clenched tightly. "Nice try, with that little explanation, but I'm not quite as stupid as you think," he bit out, angrier than I'd ever seen him. "Reminisce a little too much those first few nights you spent over there? I'm sure he'll take ya back and be thrilled with a new kid." 

I jerked back as if I'd been slapped. "You think you aren't the father?" I whispered in disbelief. "Daryl, I haven't thought about Raph like that in years. I would never touch him, or anyone else!" Daryl just turned and opened the camper door, and I slid off the bed and grabbed his elbow before he could leave. "Daryl! Talk to me! You can't go like this -" but he jerked his arm forward out of my grasp as he stepped out, and I lost my balance. I fell backward in the small space and hit my head on the little kitchen cabinet, pain blossoming behind my eyes. 

Daryl looked back at me, and shut his eyes briefly before turning away, a glimpse of self-loathing visible before he left the camper and shut the door behind him. I sat in shock, eventually pulling myself up off the floor and prodding the sore spot on the back of my head. I had no idea where he'd gone, and no way to reach him but I hoped he'd come back by the morning after he'd had a chance to think it through. 


	48. Betrayal

_So yeah, it's a war_   
_It's the goddamn fight of my life and you started it_   
_You started it_

Daryl didn't return at all the next day, or the next. I was sick both mornings and wasn't sure if it was because I was worried about him, or the pregnancy, or both. I hadn't been sick with Luke, but I had with Lucy and I knew I could be in for an unpleasant first trimester even without Daryl's issues. 

On the second day, my dad mentioned that he hadn't seen Daryl around and I started crying, unable to hold back in the face of his concern. He brought me to the house where I told both my parents some of what had happened, leaving out the part where he accused me of sleeping with Raph, and explaining some of the back story of his childhood. 

My mother hugged me tightly and reassured me that he'd be back once he'd had a chance to process it all. "It's pretty clear he hasn't had much experience dealing with feelings or relationships sweetie," she reasoned, "but he's risen to the occasion with every other challenge, and I'm sure he'll do the same here. I think anyone would be pretty shocked to find out that they'd fathered a child after taking such drastic steps to prevent it." 

She was right, and I fell asleep slightly easier that night hoping he'd be back the next day and ready to figure out what we were going to do, but the next passed with no sign of him. I was sicker that day, unable to hold down much of anything, and couldn't sleep that night, so I slipped out of the camper and sat on the wooden bench that my grandfather had built in the herb garden, drawing my knees to my chest and laying my head down on my crossed arms. 

A silent figure sat next to me after a moment, and I realized Daryl must have been waiting outside the camper, maybe trying to organize his thoughts before talking to me. He didn't say anything, and I turned toward him, exhausted and hurt but ready to have the difficult conversation I knew was coming.

"You left," I finally said when he didn't make any attempt to start talking. He nodded and leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, head bent. "Where did you go?" I prodded, getting frustrated at his silence. When he spoke, his voice was rough and low, "I was . . . my head was fucked up. All I could think of was you with him, couldn' get it out of my head." 

Tears welled up in my eyes and I willed them back. "Daryl, I would never do that. I don't know how you can think that - I'm completely in love with you. When have I ever done anything that would lead you to believe I'd cheat on you?" 

He shook his head, still not looking at me. "I know. I just . . . I see you with him and the kids sometimes and you look like a normal family. Part a me is always waiting for you ta change yer mind about me. And you bein' pregnant after I had that shit shut down a long time ago . . . just didn' make as much sense as the thing I was afraid of actually happenin." 

I swallowed back my anger and reached out to touch his arm. "Honestly, it's hurtful that you'd think that about me, but I agree that the whole failed vasectomy thing is pretty crazy and could fuck with your head. I just . . . I need to know that you aren't gonna leave again and that you'll talk to me about things you're worried about." 

He scrubbed his hands over his face and continued to stare straight ahead. "I ain't gonna leave until you tell me to," he said dully, and I scooted closer so I could wrap my arms around him. "I'm not gonna tell you to leave, Daryl. I love you, and we can figure this out. Let's go inside." He followed me into the camper and sat on the edge of the bed, but he didn't make any move to lie down, and I pulled away a bit to look at him. 

"What else is wrong?" I asked gently. "Please just talk to me, and we'll fix it together." He put his face in his hands then, and I sat back a little more. "What is it?" I whispered, my stomach clenching with anxiety. He took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter. "Gotta tell ya about . . . what I did when I left that night."

"Okay," I said slowly. "Where did you go?" He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a minute before speaking, but once he started it all came out in a rush. "Needed a drink, so I just walked until I found a bar on th'other side a town. Like I said, I was fucked up and couldn' stop thinkin' about you with him. I jus' drank until I couldn' see straight to get the images outta my head, ended up blackin' out at some point. When I woke up . . . " here he paused and swallowed hard, "I was . . . with some girl. I didn' even remember how we . . ." he trailed off and I pulled my knees back to my chest, gripping them tightly to stop from shaking. 

"Did you fuck her?" I managed to choke out, and he shook his head hesitantly. "No. Don' remember much, but she said she . . . went down on me. I was . . . fuck, I was just . . . I thought you'd fucked him and I think I wanted to do somethin' that would hurt you just as much." 

I pressed my forehead to my knees and tried to breathe and think. Tears pricked my eyes and I squeezed them shut in a futile attempt to hold myself together. "Well, you succeeded wildly," I gritted out. "Congratulations." I laid down with my back to him, unwilling to let him see me fall apart, and let the tears fall silently, trying to keep my shaky breaths as quiet as possible. 

"Jus' tell me ta go," he said, barely above a whisper, "an' I will, but I promised I wouldn' unless you told me to." I wiped away more tears and gave a humorless laugh. "The sick part about loving you is that even when you're the one who hurt me, I want you with me," I said, finally turning to look at him. "You're the person who makes me feel better just by being there, even when looking at you hurts so much I think I might throw up."

He flinched at that, and I was struck by a realization. "But it's not like that for you, is it? You wanted to be far away from me when I hurt you. I thought . . . I thought you loved me even though you never said it. I told myself you _couldn't_ say it, but you didn't need to because you showed me all the time, but I was wrong. And now I'm pregnant with your kid, and you're just stuck with me and a life you never wanted." 

He finally met my eyes and I realized with a slight shock that there were tear tracks on his cheeks. "That's not true. I wanted to come back the second I left," he said hoarsely. "But when you fell . . . when you got hurt because a me I just saw me doin' the same thing my pa did when he got pissed, and I thought if I stayed I could end up really hurting you. I've never even wanted to hit ya, I promise, but I know there's plenty a him inside me somewhere. I thought if I jus' went far enough away and got drunk enough, I could come back in the morning and talk to ya without bein' a threat." 

"What else did you do?" I demanded. "You were gone for _three days_ , Daryl. Did you just keep getting drunk, maybe wake up with someone else? Think of other ways you could get back at me for something I didn't do?" He shook his head quickly. "No, I didn't drink after that. I was sick, thinkin' about what I did. Just wandered around tryin' ta figure out what to do. All the options. An' . . . an' I went to a doctor to confirm what ya said. I wanted to believe you but I was still havin' a hard time thinkin' straight. I shoulda just come back before, I know, but I didn' think I could sort through everythin' in my head without knowin' for sure." 

I nodded, my anger keeping the tears at bay for the moment. "I see. So you left me, got blackout drunk, let some random girl go down on you, which you won't even let me do, and then even after you sobered up you _still_ thought I might have cheated on you, and had to find a doctor to confirm that I was telling you the truth. Does that cover it?" 

He swallowed and nodded. "I don' think I really needed the doctor to confirm it, but I was sick with guilt about tha' girl and I was almost hopin' ya had cheated so I wouldn' feel like such a piece a shit." 

"Oh yes, heaven forbid you feel bad about having some skank's mouth wrapped around your cock while I lay here worrying about you and puking my guts out because of your kid," I spat bitterly. 

Daryl scrubbed at his eyes in frustration and shook his head but didn't respond. "So what did you decide?" I asked icily. "After you figured out I didn't cheat on you, you said you wandered around and thought about 'all the options'. Which one are you picking? Leaving? Sticking around to raise a kid you resent with someone who just makes you feel guilty?" 

Daryl looked at me again. "I wanna be with you, and I wouldn' ever resent a kid," he said quietly. "I think I'll be a shit dad, and I'm already shit at this," he gestured between us, "but I want it, if you do. But it's up ta you, all of it. If ya want me to leave, I will. I won' go far, and I'll make sure you've got whatever ya need but I'll stay away as much as ya want. And if ya want me to stay, I'll . . . Jesus, I'll figure out some way to show you that I . . ." he shook his head, unable to finish his thought. 

I took a shaky breath and tried to think. It was late, I was exhausted, and I didn't have the capacity to make any decisions right then. My head hurt, I still felt nauseous, and my whole body ached with the physical pain that accompanied his betrayal. I just wanted to sleep, so I crawled under the covers and lay down. "I don't know what I want," I said quietly. "But I know I don't want you to leave right now. I just . . . let's just sleep and figure it out in the morning." 

Daryl slid hesitantly under the blankets next to me, and I closed my eyes, resisting the temptation to curl into him for some comfort. I couldn't help the tears that came again, and my quiet sobs filled the small space but eventually, I drifted to sleep. 

I woke with the familiar intense nausea, and crawled over Daryl, making it to the tiny bathroom just in time. I never had much in my stomach, but the hormones seemed determined that I would dry heave anyway, and I sat curled against the wall next to the toilet between waves of sickness. I could feel him watching me, unsure what he should do, but I didn't care. Eventually, I pulled myself up and washed my face in the little kitchen sink, taking a couple of careful sips of water, and a few bites of plain bread in the hopes it would settle my stomach. 

"D'ya want me to get Herschel?" Daryl asked cautiously. "It's just morning sickness," I snapped tiredly. "There's nothing he can do and it'll keep going until I'm out of the first trimester at least, so get used to it." 

I realized I'd decided I wasn't going to ask him to leave, at least not right then. I knew I could survive raising a kid on my own, and I'd have plenty of help, but I didn't want anyone but Daryl. He had hurt me deeply, and I hadn't even begun to work through just how much, but he'd also been hurt so much in his life that I knew his actions were partly a response to that. I couldn't blame him quite as much as I would someone like Raph, who'd been taught healthy ways to deal with emotions, and I thought there was a chance we could salvage something that was worth fighting for. 


	49. Trying

__ So yeah, it's a fire  
It's the goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it  
You started it

I spent the next six weeks sicker than I'd ever been in my life, way beyond any morning sickness I'd had before. I couldn't hold anything down and got used to spending most of my day curled up near the toilet, dry heaving periodically, and wishing I could just go to sleep until it was over. Daryl knew absolutely nothing about taking care of someone who was sick, but he was a fast learner and figured out that a cold washcloth against the back of my neck was helpful, along with weak peppermint tea and plain crackers my mother baked for me. 

We didn't talk, mostly because I couldn't do more than try to survive each day - dealing with any of the intense emotions between us was out of the question. I could tell he was blaming himself for everything, but much of the time I blamed him too and figured keeping my mouth shut would be better than saying something I'd regret.

I felt completely useless, but I couldn't really hold down food or get enough liquids, so I didn't have the energy to do anything even when the vomiting stopped for the day. At one point I got dehydrated enough that Herschel set up an IV drip and moved me to my parents' house for a few days, after Daryl scavenged a deserted clinic in the next town over. That helped but didn't stop the nausea, and I stayed utterly miserable until what I assumed was around the 12-week mark. I didn't know exactly when I'd gotten pregnant, since my periods had been so irregular, but the vomiting ended earlier and earlier each day until one morning I woke up and didn't have to dash for the bathroom, and I knew the worst was over. 

I looked at myself in the mirror for the first time in ages that day after Daryl left to help with chores and hardly recognized myself. I was much too thin, almost skeletal, and washed out with deep purple shadows under my eyes. I looked exhausted and sad, and the purple scars on my temple and breast stood out against my pale skin. It was a perfect reflection of how I felt inside - despondent and unattractive, and I just wanted to crawl back into bed. 

Instead, I showered and ate a plain breakfast, and went to see my mother. She beamed when she saw me upright and wrapped me in a big hug. "Do you think the worst is over?" she asked, and I nodded. "Seems like it. That's what happened with Lucy - it was just over one day - but this was so much worse." 

She regarded me knowingly. "I think the stress of the current situation probably exacerbated it," she said carefully. I sighed and rubbed my forehead. "Maybe. He's . . . he's trying but we haven't really been able to deal with any of it because I've been so sick." I hadn't told her what Daryl had done, exactly, but she knew he'd said things that were hurtful at the very least, and that our relationship was rocky. 

She made a cup of tea and set it in front of me. "Sweetie, I wasn't sure, when you first arrived, what to think about him. He's not exactly friendly, and you know I love Raph as if he were my own son, and I was grieving for what your family lost because of your relationship with Daryl. But now that I've spent time with him, quiet as he might be, I can see why you love him. You've never really needed anyone for anything, you were always so capable of figuring things out on your own, and that worked with Raph. He liked having you to run everything and keep life organized while he provided entertainment and pushed you to try new things that we couldn't provide for you growing up, like fancy restaurants or expensive vacations." 

"But when you were stuck there, I think you learned to need other people. You couldn't do everything for yourself, and you can't here either, with the way things are. And Daryl takes care of you in the ways you need, I think. I've never seen you trust anyone like that, except maybe your father when you were a child," she blinked back tears and smiled at me, "so whatever has happened between you, it's worth fixing." 

I wiped my face with the napkin she handed me. "I know, and I'm going to try. The hard part is, I don't know if he actually loves me, or if he even knows how. He's never said he does, and I'm pretty sure he's not sure what he feels most of the time. How do I navigate that?" 

She sighed and rubbed my back. "I can't answer that. But you know, your dad's family was pretty dysfunctional. His parents were violent with each other, and often with their kids, though your grandfather loved him and they eventually worked out a functional relationship. But he didn't have a clue how a healthy marriage should work, and we managed to figure it out. I know it's not the same, but I have a lot of faith in you two to be as successful as we've been." 

I drank the last of my tea and hugged her. "I'll do my best, I promise, especially now that I can hold down some food." She sent me back to the camper to rest, with some leftovers for lunch, and I curled up on the bed with a book. 

I went to our group's house a little before dinner and offered to help Carol and Herschel, who were prepping the meal in the kitchen. They were both glad I was feeling better and didn't ask too many questions about Daryl, though I knew they were aware of our issues. 

Dinner was noisy, with Carl teasing Beth about Luke’s crush on her (which was news to me) and Judith entertaining everyone with her new favorite game of blowing raspberries with a full mouth. I watched it all, feeling a sense of warmth within the heavy weight of everything else, and Carl squinted at me in concern across the table. "Are you okay, Ana?" he asked, and I realized there were tears sliding down my cheeks. I wiped them hastily away and laughed awkwardly. "Yes, sorry! Just pregnancy hormones," I said, getting up to clear my plate. 

I took my time in the kitchen, starting on the dishes, and didn't turn around when I heard the door close softly behind someone. Rick cleared his throat, and I started slightly, surprised it wasn't Carol or Herschel. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he said, obviously uncomfortable, and I nodded without turning around. 

"We've been worried about you bein' so sick," he continued, "and I knew Daryl was scared shitless about all of it, but it seemed like there was somethin' more goin' on, and then yesterday he told me what happened when he left." 

I stopped washing dishes and gripped the edge of the sink, feeling humiliated but a little relieved that someone else knew. I felt Rick lean on the sink next to me, and I shook my head, wiping away tears. "I can't . . . I can't even look at him without thinking about it. And I've been so sick and just feel disgusting all the time, and pathetic because I want him to want me even though I'm angry." It occurred to me that Rick would understand betrayal better than anyone else, and I met his eyes. He nodded, and wiped another tear away, pulling me into a hug. "I know. What happened with Lori was different, but I do know the insecurity part. But, unlike that situation, Daryl really didn't ever want anyone else and just made a really stupid mistake." 

I pressed my face into Rick's shoulder, soaking his shirt with my tears, and nodded. "I just wish he could tell me how he felt more. He used to show me, but when he can't, it's like he's just shut off." Before Rick could answer, the kitchen door opened, and Daryl walked in. I stepped back from Rick, wiping my eyes, but I saw Daryl's eyes flash between us for a moment before he turned around and left. 

Rick sighed, "Do you want me to talk to him?" he asked, and I shook my head. "No. If he can't handle that, after everything, we're even more fucked than I thought. Thank you though - I needed that a lot." He gave me a small smile and I headed outside. I could see the lantern on in the camper, so at least Daryl hadn't bolted again. 

He was lying on the bed, arms behind his head, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "Are you mad about Rick giving me a hug?" I asked bluntly. He shook his head but didn't look at me. "Jus' don' like seein' ya upset," he muttered. I was suddenly overwhelmingly tired and in need of more comfort than what Rick had provided. I climbed on the bed and crawled over to him, resting my head on his chest. He didn't move for a second, and then shifted slowly, bringing his arm down to wrap around me tentatively. 

I closed my eyes, breathing in his scent, and the feel of his body. It was all I had wanted for weeks, even when I was furious and hurt and insecure. I shifted my leg over his hip and pressed myself more tightly against him, and he took a shaky breath and then rolled me over gently so he was hovering over me. 

"I'm sorry," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "I didn't say it before, when I told you about everything, even though it's what I meant. And then you were so fuckin' sick and I didn't want to make you feel even worse by remindin' you. I don' know how to tell you what I'm thinkin' or feelin', and I don' know how to fix all this but I'm sorry and nothin' like that'll ever happen again." 

I closed my eyes tightly and decided to let that be enough for now. "Okay," I said, tilting my head so my lips brushed his. "I don't know if I can say I completely forgive you, because that's kind of a process, but I'll get there." He was holding himself completely still above me, and I bent my knee to hook it around the back of his leg, shifting my hips into him. 

He finally moved, carefully settling himself between my legs, and brushed the hair off my face. "You sure?" he asked somewhat incredulously, and I nodded, pressing a kiss to his mouth. He didn't kiss me back right away, and I stopped, wondering if I'd made a huge mistake. I'd spent the last several weeks vomiting most of the time he was with me, and I couldn't imagine that was much of a turn on. But suddenly it was like a switch flipped, and he kissed me desperately, gripping my hip with one hand and the back of my head with the other. 

I pressed up into him, and he rocked his hips into me, and I groaned. I'd forgotten that pregnancy hormones could do more than make me sick, and it felt like ages since I'd felt that desperate ache in my core. "I need you . . ." I gasped between kisses, and he pulled his mouth away to suck lightly on my neck, which he knew I loved. 

My fingers scrabbled at the buttons on his shirt, but he brushed them away and tugged mine over my arms and head, tossing it off the bed. I felt suddenly self-conscious about my less than stellar appearance, but he was kissing every inch of my shoulders and chest, and I couldn't linger on the thoughts. He sucked at the fabric of my bra over my nipple, and it was so sensitive I moaned and clutched at his back, on edge already. 

He hummed appreciatively and pulled the cups of my bra down. My breasts were definitely bigger and incredibly sensitive, and he seemed to know this somehow, swirling his tongue around my nipples without nipping or tugging. "Oh my god," I moaned, "please Daryl, I need . . . " I couldn't come up with the words, but he tugged down my pants and underwear, and kissed down my ribcage and waist, sucking on my protruding hip bone before dropping lower and kissing my thighs as I spread my legs open. 

He ran his fingers up my folds, gathering slick juices, and then leaned forward to press them to my bottom lip gently. I opened my mouth, and he slipped a finger inside, letting me taste myself as I sucked it clean, groaning softly as I licked the last drops off my lips. He moved back down my body, and replaced his fingers with his tongue, expertly licking around my clit, sliding it down to gather more juices, then back up to flick gently over the sensitive nub, until I was moaning and arching up into him trying to get closer. His lips closed around it, sucking until I came, hard, crying his name and clutching his hair. He slipped two fingers in and fucked me with them as I rode out the orgasm, pressing kisses to my thighs and hips until I had stopped shaking. 

I tugged him up toward me and realized he was still fully clothed. I tried to undo his jeans but he laced his fingers through mine and pulled them away, stretching out next to me and kissing me again. I could feel he was hard, and I stroked his cock through his pants, but he pulled me away again, shaking his head. "I don't understand," I said uncertainly. "You don't want me?" 

"You know I do," he said hoarsely, rocking his hips against me so I could feel the evidence. "But mostly I wanna make you feel good. Don' wanna think 'bout me." 

I traced his cheekbone with my thumb and wondered if this was some kind of self-punishment. Or did it remind him of being with that girl, and he was trying to forget her? That one made my stomach turn, and I pushed the thought away. "Well at least take off your pants and shirt so we can sleep," I said, and he obliged. 

I unhooked my bra and tossed it away, and then pressed against him again, running my hands over his chest and down along the hard lines of his abdominal muscles. I felt him tense and relax as I touched him, and then grab my hands when I moved them to this thighs so I relented. I pulled the blankets over us and laid my head on his chest to sleep, unsure of what was going through his head, but knowing we were making some progress. 


	50. Need

I woke up a few hours later and listened to Daryl breathing in the dark. After weeks of feeling nothing but misery, it was like my body had thrown all that off and moved into a phase of intense arousal. Or maybe it was because Daryl hadn't touched me in so long, all of that had built up without me realizing it.

In any case, I couldn't keep my hands still and they slid down his hips, close to where I wanted to touch him. I pressed kisses to his chest and flicked my tongue over his nipples, feeling them tighten. His hips jerked and rocked into my hand for a minute before he pulled me away. "Stop, baby," he murmured, "Y'don need to." 

"I want you," I whispered. "All of you. I want you inside me so much it hurts." I didn't want to play games with him and hide how I felt anymore. If we were going to be together, we had to rebuild some of the trust we'd had before, and the only way to do that was through honesty. 

"Fuck," he muttered against my lips, but he let go of my hand so I could stroke him again and rolled over on top of me. I could see his eyes searching mine, even in the darkness, but I didn't quite know what he was looking for. He bent to suck gently on my nipples, drawing a stuttering breath from my lips, and then tugged off his boxers with one hand, and pressed himself against me, sliding against my slick thighs. 

I lifted my hips toward him, but he pushed them down gently and cupped my cheek with his hand, tracing my lower lip with his thumb. "I do love you," he said raggedly, "even if I can't tell you most a the time." He pushed into me with that, and dropped his head to the crook of my neck with a groan, stilling his hips to get control. I whimpered at the sensation and his unexpected declaration. It had been so long that I could feel myself stretching slightly to accommodate him, and every nerve ending felt like it was vibrating with need. 

I ran my hands through his messy hair as he began to thrust, slowly at first, head still against my neck. A few tears slid from my eyes and I was glad he wasn't looking at me. I knew it had taken a lot for him to say those words, which I was sure he'd been taught were a sign of weakness, and I didn't want to freak him out by overreacting. By the time he pulled back to look at me, I'd wiped them away and pushed myself up with my hands so I could kiss him hungrily. 

"I love you too," I said, tugging his lower lip with my teeth. "So much." He pulled me up so he was sitting back and I was in his lap, letting me ride him and take control, which he'd never done before. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, feeling him move deep within me, taking me higher and higher, and then dropped down to his chest and he rolled us back over so he could take control. 

"Jesus, you're beautiful," he panted, picking up the pace and sucking at the spot where my shoulder and neck met "You should be naked all the time. Just stay here in bed, forever." I laughed breathlessly, and met his thrusts, riding the building pressure of my orgasm until it finally broke and I could feel my walls clamp around him, pulling him into his climax. 

"I think I will," I said after he collapsed to lie next to me. "You can just bring me food and water and orgasms and I'll never need anything else." A half-smile played around his lips and he kissed the space between my breasts, and then my stomach. He rested his forehead there, for a minute, and I ran my hands through his hair, saying a brief prayer that he'd learn to love the baby too someday.

After a moment he laid back down next to me, and took a deep breath, clearly needing to say something difficult. "I wanna tell you . . . ya said somethin' that night 'bout how I don' let ya go down on me but I let that girl . . ." I tried not to tense up too much and nodded, turning slightly toward him. "Back before," he continued haltingly, "sometimes I'd meet someone pretty nice, who was just kinda stuck in a shitty life like me, and we'd hook up for a while. Nothin' serious, but more than just a one-night thing. But when that wasn' happenin', and I just wanted more than my own hand, I'd go to a bar, buy some trashy girl some drinks and have her blow me in the alley without returnin' the favor, like a fuckin' asshole. That's . . . I hate thinkin' about that an' I don' want ya doin' it."

I was quiet for a bit, processing that. "But it wouldn't be like that, with us. You go down on me all the time, and it would just be letting me reciprocate and make you feel good. Maybe it wouldn't remind you of that, once we did it a few times."

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, pulling me closer. "Maybe. Don' wanna try it anytime soon though. Got enough to deal with, without more a my shitty past." I kissed his chest, relaxing into him for a few more hours of sleep, and let it go for now. 


	51. Fantasies

As the weather turned warmer and I began joining the crews working in the fields again, I was occasionally able to reconnect with old friends who stopped by. We had kept to ourselves and been working hard to get settled for the first few months, but eventually, word spread through town that I'd survived and made it back with a whole group of new folks, and people got curious. 

Most people just wanted to give me a hug and tell me how glad they were to see me, and the latest news with their family. Most had lost at least a few loved ones, and some of my friends hadn't made it at all or had left to find family elsewhere. 

One day I heard Rick yell my name from the gate and I found Liz grinning at an uncomfortable Daryl, who she'd managed to corner. After hugging me tightly, she spun to look him up and down and nodded approvingly. "You know after you sent me that picture those arms showed up in my dreams a few times," she teased, and Daryl reddened. 

"I mean, don't get me wrong, I was terrified for you but I was also a teeny bit suspicious that you managed to get stranded in a nightmare-inducing horror-filled MAGA country with someone who looked like he could keep the dead away _and_ you fully satisfied without a problem."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm hoping you didn't mention this to anyone else?" I questioned, and she laughed. "No worries, my lips were sealed as always. But when I heard you were home and you and Raph weren't together, I was pretty sure I knew who was keeping your bed warm. And I didn't blame you for a second. You know our old deal?"

I had no idea what she was talking about, and it must have shown on my face because she turned to Daryl. "I told her that I'd happily have a threesome with her and Jamie Fraser," she informed him, "and I'll extend that offer to her and _you_ , anytime." I was pretty sure Daryl had never heard of _Outlander_ but to his credit, he just raised his eyebrows at me and then gave Liz a nod. "That's . . . very informative," he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "thanks for the offer," and he gave her an amused look before walking away. 

I had never seen Daryl relaxed enough around women we didn't know to be almost flirtatious and stared after him for a minute before Liz got my attention. "Sorry for scaring him off, but you know I have to be honest," she said with a mischievous grin. I bumped her with my shoulder as we headed toward the house so she could meet the rest of the group and then laughed, "I don't think I've ever seen that expression on his face," I giggled. "And I think he's probably asking someone who Jamie Fraser is right now." 

______________

Daryl found me later in the barn and leaned up against the sheep pen while I filled their water trough. "That was enlightening," he said, and I blushed slightly. "Liz was that person I could say anything to," I said, "and I knew she wouldn't think less of me. I was pretty sheltered for a long time, and she kind of allowed me to think about or say stuff that I'd always thought was kind of improper or something, for a wife a mother and, you know, respectable lawyer." 

Daryl tugged at my belt loops, pulling me toward him, and tilted my chin up so I had to meet his eyes. "Like what?" he said huskily, and I flushed, heat prickling in my abdomen. "Like, um," I fiddled with his shirt, leaning into him slightly. "Like fantasy stuff, you know?" 

He ran his thumbs over my nipples, which were pushing at the fabric of my too-small bra, and hummed. "Ya plan to tell me 'bout these fantasies?" he asked, and I dropped my head to his shoulder. "Maybe?" I whispered, suddenly shy, and he picked me up and sat me on the top of the stall fence, standing between my legs. 

"Y'don' have to," he said quietly. "But I wanna know ever'thing ya want, and even the stuff ya don' really want but sometimes like ta think about." I nodded, and rested my forehead on his shoulder, fingers tracing his ribs lightly. "You remember that time in the library?" I said quietly, and he hummed a yes. "That . . . that kind of thing was one of them. Like, I think the risk of being caught or whatever. Or the thought that someone might . . . watch." 

I rubbed my thighs together, turned on by the memory and his closeness, and then straightened up as I heard dad and brother's voices just outside. Daryl's chest rumbled in a quiet laugh and he helped me down from the wall. "Probably not hot to get caught by yer family," he murmured, kissing my forehead, "but I ain't done with this conversation." 

_______________

"I'm guessin'" Daryl drawled, slowly unbuttoning my shirt that night, "that one a those fantasies involves some hot Scottish guy in a kilt?"

"Where on earth did you find out who Jamie Fraser is?" I said, trying and failing to keep a straight face, and he just shook his head, amused.

"Y'don' think I'm into historic romance novels?" he deadpanned, and I started laughing and couldn't stop. "No seriously," I gasped, "Did you ask Rick? Carol? My mom? I need to know how that conversation went!" He dug his fingers into my side, tickling me until I surrendered, "Okay, okay, don't tell me! And yes, Jamie Fraser is quite an appealing character. At the top of Liz's list, a little further down on mine."

"List?" he questioned, and I nodded. "We were in a book club and we all had our list of characters we'd most want to spend a night with." Daryl raised his eyebrows and pulled my shirt off while I unhooked my bra and groaned at the feeling of having it off. I needed to find a bigger one but hadn't had the time, and I massaged my tender skin sighing in relief. Daryl's eyes darkened and he took over, careful not to be too rough, and mimicking my movements, but managing to brush against my nipples periodically, which hardened obediently.

"Just so you know," I said, as he unbuttoned my pants and slipped them off my hips with my panties. "In the third trimester I'm just going to feel huge and gross and not want you to touch me, so even though I should probably be embarrassed at how horny I am all the time, I really don't care. All you have to do is look at me and I'm soaking wet." It was true - I felt like I was walking around in a constant state of arousal these days, far more than I'd ever experienced with my other kids.

Daryl stripped down to his boxers while I was talking, and crawled behind me, sitting against the pillows and pulling my back against his chest so I could lay there. He stroked my breasts again, ghosting over my aching nipples, and then took my hand and pulled it down to my wet pussy. "Show me what you did when you had yer little fantasies" he growled quietly, and I bit my lip and closed my eyes, running my fingers through my folds, rubbing them on either side of my clit, and then circling it slowly.

Daryl was still playing gently with my nipples, so I lifted my other hand to touch his face, and turned my head up to look at him. "I usually wasn't this wet," I confessed, "and sometimes I had to use lube, but," I closed my eyes, sensations from my fingers' work starting to cloud my thinking, "but it helped me clear my head of everything I was worrying about."

"Tell me what ya thought about," Daryl murmured, and I slowed my fingers slightly, still hesitant. "Um, sometimes . . . what I said before? And sometimes stuff like spanking or whatever. Withholding orgasms," I began moving my fingers again, feeling him throb against my lower back, "or other stuff like we've done, pretending I'm sort of innocent." I could feel my climax starting to build, and angled my hips slightly, moving more quickly.

"And sometimes," I said breathlessly, "I thought about what it would be like with another woman, or watching two men." I was close, my fingers moving in tighter circles, but Daryl grabbed my hand and pulled it back, and my eyes flew open. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, though clearly he was still aroused, and I worried I'd said something that bothered him.

He pulled both my hands up and set them gently on the back of his neck, wordlessly telling me to leave them there, then ran his hands lightly down my curved arms, over my ribcage and waist, and pulled my legs further apart. I was still breathing deeply, and desperate for release, but I had missed him in this role and wanted more.

"So," he said, sinking a finger inside me with agonizing slowness. "Did these fantasies stop when you got to Georgia?" I shook my head, shifting my hips fruitlessly trying to get more. "Hmmm. And were they about characters in books?" I thought about lying but didn't see the point. "No," I panted, "I haven’t thought about that list in ages. I mean at first, I was too scared to think about anything, but then at the farm, I started thinking about you all the time, even though I was trying not to -" I broke off and my eyes flew open as he took a slick finger and slid it over my back entrance.

His finger massaged small circles around the tightly puckered opening, and I found that it felt good, but I was completely out of my depth and had no idea where he was going with this. I knew I definitely wasn't ready for anal sex, and I'd never really figured out how people got over the gross factor. Daryl slipped his fingers back to my pussy and I relaxed slightly, but he leaned down to murmur in my ear. "Baby, calm down. I'm just touchin' you, ain't gonna go any further than that. If it feels good, just relax and don' think about it too much."

I exhaled shakily and nodded, and managed not to tense up when his finger slid back again. He was right, it did feel good, and provided a different sensation than I'd felt before. He alternated between my ass and my clit, working me back to the edge, then easing me off again, until I was an aching, squirming wreck, teetering on the brink of an orgasm and I couldn't think straight, before he asked. "And which men did you picture together?" His thumb hovered over my clit, waiting for an answer, and I blurted out, "you and Rick," before he gave me what I needed and I came all over his hand, almost sobbing with relief.

As soon as I came down from the high, I realized what I'd said and rolled away from him to hide my red face. He pulled me back and gave me a very self-satisfied smirk. "Y'embarrassed about that one?" he said slyly and I shoved halfheartedly at his chest. "You play dirty, Dixon. You're not freaked out about that?" He shook his head, "Why? Not like I never thought about watchin' Maggie eat y'out or something."

"Oh my god," I muttered, covering my face with my hands. "I won't even be able to look at them tomorrow." Daryl laughed and kissed me, deepening it until I relaxed and pressed into him again. "Hmmm. Thought about goin' down on you late at night in the dining room back at the prison, spreadin' you out on a table so anyone walkin' by could see your pretty pussy, and wish they could taste ya."

I bit back a whimper, still self-conscious, and Daryl gripped my jaw, holding me still. "Don' hide from me," he said sternly. "Y'like somethin', I wanna know." I nodded, and whispered, "Yes. I . . . I like that."

His eyes darkened, and he pushed inside me without warning, satisfied when I moaned loudly. "Y'woulda moaned like that, even if y'knew someone would come find out what was goin' on?" I nodded, unbelievably turned on at the thought. "Yes. I would have wanted them to watch," I said breathlessly, as he fucked me hard, biting his favorite spot on my shoulder until I cried out, then licking it in apology. I felt my orgasm building again, and felt an overwhelming need to be connected to him in every way possible, reaching up to kiss him, tongues tangling, chests pressed together, my legs wrapped around his waist until we tumbled over the edge of pleasure together, with no attempt to keep quiet.


	52. History

A few nights later I worked up the courage to ask him something I'd been wondering about. He was always most talkative and open after sex, and almost never shut me down when I asked questions anymore. I knew he was trying hard to fix what had broken and rebuild it into something stronger. 

"You know how you told me about how you'd sometimes hook up with girls for a while, but nothing very serious?" I said tentatively. "Mmmhmm," he responded, tensing only slightly. "Well, I was wondering how you . . . got really good at all of this. I mean, you know how to touch me exactly right, and you did even from the beginning. That can't just be something that happens from some short term hookups." 

I'd thought about it a lot since we'd had that conversation. Daryl was a complicated mix of confidence and uncertainty in most areas of life, but in bed he was always in control, completely assured in his incredible ability to bring me intense pleasure, whatever the method. I could _not_ believe he'd just figured all that out with a handful of girls over the years. 

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, obviously not thrilled with the conversation, but determined not to retreat. "When I was jus' startin' high school we lived in a trailer park next ta this single mom who had a couple a young kids. She didn' have anyone ta help her with stuff so sometimes she'd ask me ta move somethin' or whatever. I didn' mind hangin out over there ta get away from my pa, at least not when her kids were at their dad's an not runnin around screamin." 

I could see where this was headed, but stayed quiet. "After I fixed her TV one time, she thanked me and told me I could touch 'er anytime I wanted. I was just this horny kid, and she wasn' bad lookin so . . ." he rubbed a hand over his face, clearly feeling awkward, "I did. An' then pretty much whenever her kids weren't around we'd hook up. She was prob'ly 'bout as old as I am now, and knew what she liked, wasn't afraid to show me. Or she'd get some porn and we'd try different stuff." 

He fell silent, and my mind raced, trying to think of what to say. That was clearly statutory rape, and if she'd been found out a few years ago she'd have been prosecuted, had to register as a sex offender, and her kids would have been taken away. It was appalling, quite honestly, but it seemed like Daryl viewed it as a positive experience and I didn't want to seem judgmental. "Wow," I said finally, "so how long did it last?" 

He shrugged. "After a while, I started hookin' up with girls my own age and figured out a lotta other guys didn' bother makin' them feel good, used it to my advantage to hook up with as many of 'em as possible. I still went over there sometimes, but eventually, she moved away." 

"Do you think . . . I mean, was it a good thing, or did you regret it later?" I asked carefully, still not sure how to feel about some lady who thought it was okay to take advantage of a teenage boy who was already a survivor of abuse but also gave him a way to feel good. I'd sat in many meetings where we talked about similar situations, careful to refer to the teenage boys as "victims" and the sex as "rape," and I was having a hard time wrapping my brain around any other interpretation. 

Daryl exhaled and rolled over to look at me in the moonlight. "I'm guessin' ya think I was fucked up?" he asked tightly, and I swallowed hard before answering. "Not _you_. There's nothing wrong with what you did. It's just . . . I mean, you were just a kid and she was taking advantage of you." 

Daryl snorted a laugh at that, relaxing. "Baby, I know when you were that age you were just dreamin' about hand holdin' but I was horny as fuck all the time, and happy to let some lonely pretty lady 'take advantage'. Was just somethin' that felt good fer both of us in a shitty life - she wasn' a bad person. And she taught me how ta make you feel good, so you should be thankin' her." 

I didn't fully understand or agree, and part of me wished I hadn't asked. These were clearly happy - and extensive - memories, and likely the closest thing to a relationship he'd had before me and I was suddenly and unexpectedly jealous. Why hadn't he told me about her before? I was picturing a Mrs. Robinson type woman, rough around the edges but sexy, giving Daryl this incredible escape from his awful life. 

I shifted uncomfortably and looked away, chewing on the inside of my lip. I knew I was inexperienced sexually, despite my age and years of marriage, and I really didn't want to be compared to this woman who taught Daryl how to be incredible in bed with all her sexual prowess. Maybe he wished I were more assertive, or adventurous, or knew more about sexual predilections. I'd never been into porn - had worked with way too many young girls who had been really messed up by the darkest corners of that world - but I knew in avoiding it I'd probably also avoided learning stuff that could have been helpful, and my fantasies now seemed childish. She was probably fine with anal sex, and I'd practically jumped out of bed when he barely touched me there. 

Daryl tugged my lip from my teeth, turning my head so I had to look at him. "What's wrong?" he asked, "That's yer worried look." I shook my head and forced a smile. "Nothing. Sounds like she was really . . . something." He frowned slightly, misunderstanding my response. "Jesus, stop judging her," he snapped, flopping onto his back. "Not everyone gets a devoted husband and big happy family right outta high school." 

His sudden annoyance only deepened my feeling of immaturity and I turned my head away so he wouldn't see me cry, frustrated that the tears seemed to come so easily these days with the raging hormones. He didn't say anything in the silence that followed, and I didn't want to insult him anymore. "I'm sorry," I said finally, holding my voice as steady as I could. "I wasn't trying to insult her. Maybe we should just go to sleep." 

"Are you crying?" he asked, sitting up halfway to peer at me. "No," I sniffed miserably, pushing my face further into my pillow. "Fuck," he swore quietly. "What the hell do you want - you asked the question! I know it ain't like yer sweet innocent love story but I don' see why yer all freaked out about it." 

I didn't answer, and he groaned in frustration. "Fucking hell Ana, this is the shit I don't know how ta do. Maybe yer husband knew exactly what ta say all the time, but I ain't him so yer gonna have ta give me a fuckin' clue here." 

"Did she like anal sex?" I blurted out, emboldened by his willingness to admit that he felt out of his depth in some areas. 

He looked at me incredulously. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he asked. "Janie? Jesus, why does it matter?" Now I had a name to put with the face and body I'd been imagining. "Yes, _Janie_ ," I said. "And it doesn't matter, exactly, I'm just curious."

He scrubbed a hand over his face and shrugged, "Yeah, I guess. Sometimes." My heart sank, but I just nodded and closed my eyes. "Thanks. For answering, I mean. We can go to sleep now." He laid back down but I could tell he wasn't relaxed enough to be trying to sleep. After a few minutes, he tugged me toward him and I tried to wipe away more tears before he could see them. 

"Baby," he said, his voice more gentle, "Are you upset about stuff I did with her?" I nodded, feeling like a child but unable to pretend not to care. "I just don't want to be so boring for you," I admitted. "If I was really experienced like her, maybe I'd know how to make you feel good, and I definitely wouldn't get freaked out about stupid stuff that other women think isn't a big deal." 

"That's . . . " he didn't seem to know what to say, and I waited miserably, avoiding his eyes. "You not knowin' everything already, lettin' me show you what could make ya feel good? God, that's one of my favorite things. I don' want ya ta be more experienced, not unless I get ta be the one that teaches you. An’ what makes me feel good is bein’ with you like that." 

"But what if I don't like some things, and you want to do them?" I asked uncertainly, and he rolled his eyes. "I assume yer talkin' about anal?" I shrugged, embarrassed, and he tried not to smile. "That's not somethin' I care about all that much, but it can be good for some people. A lotta people don' like it though, so if it's not somethin' ya wanna do, yer in good company." 

"That thing you did the other day felt good" I admitted hesitantly, and he closed his eyes briefly. "See, that shy shit right there goes straight to my dick. Don't try to be different than ya are, baby." I curled closer to him, relaxing into the idea that the dynamic we had was good for him too. 

"Did she like -" I started to ask, thinking about my aversion to being restrained, but he covered my mouth with his hand before I could finish. "I don' ever think about her, and what she liked," he said firmly. "Tonight, when ya asked me about it was the first time she'd even crossed my mind in years. Now go to sleep, so yer rested enough for what I wanna show ya tomorrow." 


	53. Preparations

One hot day in August, Daryl took me into the wooded area at the back of my grandfather's property. I wasn't sure exactly where it ended and the next property began, but before we got to where it began to slope upwards, he stopped in a small clearing. "Been talkin' to yer dad," he began, "an' I think we can build somethin' here, for us, if ya want." 

I looked around, caught off guard. It wasn't too far from where the forest began, but enough that it was dim and cool under the trees. The clearing was big enough that sunlight dappled the ground, and I could imagine a little cabin or something there. It would be perfect - secluded, but close to everyone, and much more secure than the camper. 

I realized Daryl was watching me nervously, and I smiled at him, delighted. "It would be perfect. But how? I mean, I don't have the first clue about building a house." He relaxed and rested his chin on the top of my head, pulling me back against him. 

"I know it's hard to imagine, but there are some things other people know that you don't," he teased, and then more seriously, "I built a huntin' cabin once, with my pa and his friends. They were drunk mosta the time so I had ta figure a lot of it out myself. Didn' fall down, least not 'fore they burned it a few years later when they were on a bender. Yer dad says he can get the hardware, and there's a bunch of trees already cut a little up the hill where someone musta been plannin' to build somethin'. We can start with those and cut more when we need 'em." 

I stood on tiptoe to kiss him, and then gasped, feeling a flutter in my belly. "What's wrong?" Daryl asked, eyes flashing to where I'd pressed my hand against my abdomen. "It moved," I said, and closed my eyes as I felt it again. I hadn't been able to button my jeans for weeks and had switched to yoga pants and stretchy shirts, but Daryl hadn't said anything about the slight bump and I still felt like I was treading on dangerous ground when it came to talking about the baby. "I've felt it before, but never this strong."

I opened my eyes and saw that he was staring at me, expression unreadable, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "We should probably talk about this," I said, "we can't avoid it forever." Daryl rubbed his forehead and nodded, stepping back slightly to lean against a tree. "Okay," he said hoarsely, "When d'ya think it's gonna be here?" 

I sat on a stump at the edge of the clearing. "I think I'm around 4 and a half months, maybe five," I said. "So if I go full term, I'd have it in mid-January. But Luke and Lucy were both a couple of weeks early, so you never know." Daryl nodded. "Yer mom said ya didn' have any problems with their birth r'anythin,'" he said, not meeting my eyes. 

"You talked to her about it?" I asked incredulously, and he shot me a defensive look. "Don' plan on lettin' ya handle everythin' yerself," he muttered, and I tried unsuccessfully to stop myself from crying in relief. I'd assumed he was avoiding all mention of the baby, but he'd swallowed his pride and discomfort enough to ask my mom about childbirth so he'd be prepared. 

"I didn't," I choked out, wiping away tears as he watched me in alarm, startled at my sudden breakdown. "I didn't want to make you think about it, because I knew you aren't really ready, so I've been talking to Herschel a little bit, and I was gonna talk to my sister about borrowing her old baby stuff now that Louisa's older, but what I really wanted was to talk to you and, and -" I couldn't finish, but he'd pulled me up from my seat and wrapped me in a tight hug, and I finished my crying jag in his arms. 

"The constant crying will stop sometime after the baby comes, I promise," I sniffled, wiping my eyes. "S'okay," he said, smoothing back my hair from my wet face. "I guess there's a lotta hormones or whatever. Yer sister gave me a book about it." 

"You're reading a book about pregnancy?" I squeaked out, and he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Didn' finish it yet," he said, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "Last part's kinda . . . intense." 

I bit back a comment about how labor was going to be "intense" for me more than him and wrapped him in another hug. The fact that he was reading a book blew me away. When I'd been pregnant with Luke I'd bought several books for expectant fathers and Raph had flatly ignored them. To be fair, we were really young, but his willingness to let me figure it all out on my own had stung, and I'd never fully gotten over it. 

Daryl, with zero relationship experience or fatherly role models, had gone out of his way to learn more about what I was going through so he could be helpful. Before I could start crying again at the thought, the baby moved again, a real kick this time, and Daryl jerked backward as if he'd been stung. "You felt that?" I whispered, and he nodded, eyes glued to my stomach. I took his hand and put it on my belly, under my shirt, and the baby kicked again as if to say hello. 

I kept our fingers laced, but turned to walk back toward the house, wanting to give him some space to process. He walked alongside me, unspeaking, and we joined the rest of the family harvesting the hay a few minutes later.


	54. Home

It turned out that Daryl had done a lot more than talk to my dad about building a cabin. They'd already drawn up plans with my brother and gathered all the hardware they'd need, cement and cinder blocks for the foundation, and scavenged windows and doors from abandoned houses. Apparently, Raph had offered wine to trade for roofing paper and shingles, which I knew was difficult for him, and possibly more difficult for Daryl to accept but they'd both put aside their pride. 

All that meant that while most of us were working in the hot kitchens or fields to preserve the late summer harvest, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn spent their days in the clearing, joined periodically by my dad, my brother Jake, and my youngest sister Daphne, who preferred construction to canning. They used the cinderblocks to build a crawlspace foundation, after leveling the forest floor, then used the biggest and straightest of the felled logs to form the sills, on which they built the floor. 

Jake had gotten a buddy to loan him his bobcat with some kind of attachment for moving the logs, in exchange for one of the pigs we'd raised, so the process went fairly smoothly, without any major injuries. I'd begun to really show, and borrowed Daphne's old maternity clothes once I got too big for my stretchiest ones. It didn't seem to bother Daryl, and he'd even started resting his hand on my stomach occasionally when I said the baby was kicking. 

Sometimes he was asleep before I even got in the camper, exhausted from the long days of strenuous labor, but usually, I'd wake up the next morning to his head between my legs, and we'd spend breakfast time tangled in bed before heading out for another day. 

A few weeks after they'd begun work, toward the end of a very hot September, Daryl took me out to see the cabin after dinner. I'd been out several times when they were putting up the foundation and the floor, but we'd been frantically working in the kitchens and the past couple of weeks I checked on the progress. When we got to the clearing I gasped, stunned at how far they'd gotten. The walls were done, each log fitted flush against the ones below and above it, with a tight dovetail notch at the corners. They must have cut the holes for the door and windows that day because the pieces they'd cut away lay around the foundation and the windows and door hadn't been installed yet. 

He boosted me up onto the porch, which didn't have steps yet, so I could walk through the doorway into the cabin and look around. It was a 20x20 foot square, with a porch the length of one side, and the beams that would support the roof extended over the porch as well. I was amazed at the sturdiness of the construction, and the way it all fit together. "This is incredible," I murmured. "I can't believe you built this for us."

"Had a lotta help," he said, but I could tell he was proud of it, and I reached up to kiss him, trying to forget about how sweaty and disgusting I'd gotten over a hot stove that day, or that I was still wearing the stained t-shirt that didn't quite stretch enough over my belly along with the only comfortable maternity shorts I owned, a tattered pair of cut off sweats. Daryl never seemed to care, and I breathed in his familiar scent, combined with the smell of the freshly cut pine. 

His hands slid under my ass and lifted me up so I could wrap my legs around him. I was almost at the end of the second trimester, but I still wanted him just as badly and didn't bat an eye when he tugged my shirt over my head. It was deep dusk, and darker under the trees, but there was a bright moon rising that shone into the clearing and through the open roof, reflecting off my pale chest and the beads of sweat on Daryl's tanned skin. 

I licked them off his neck, savoring the taste of him, and he quickly yanked off the rest of our clothes and slid into me, pressing me against the rough walls but keeping his hands between them and my back. He was rough and fast, but it was exactly what I needed, and my overly sensitive body responded quickly. 

He set me gently down afterward, and used my shirt to clean me up, then helped me pull on his shirt and my shorts before walking back to the camper. He was kneeling in front of me after pulling my shorts over my hips, when he pressed a kiss to my swollen belly and I knew, deep within me, that he'd moved from acceptance into reluctant anticipation. 


	55. Midwife

My mother had been telling the truth when she said I didn't have any complications with Luke and Lucy's labor, but I was terrified about this baby's birth. The other two had been born in a modern hospital, surrounded by doctors and nurses and medical equipment to help with any issue. I'd had epidurals with both, as soon as I got to the pain level where I was alternating between vomiting and passing out, and now none of that was available. 

There were still doctors, of course, but without a working power grid the hospitals had shut down and women had gone back to giving birth at home. I'd been acquainted with a woman who was a midwife before the world fell apart, and I ventured to her office in town in late October to see if she was willing to take me on as a patient. 

I'd only gone into town a handful of times since we'd arrived. There wasn't much to see - a handful of stores that sold local goods, a couple of medical clinics, and a few bars. It tended to remind me of Daryl's drunken night all those months ago and I tried to push those thoughts away as I approached her little downtown space. I hadn't told Daryl I was coming - we'd wrapped up the bulk of the canning and drying the day before, and he was still working on the cabin, trying to finish weatherproofing before the rain really started. 

Jenny had come with me, and we greeted Leah with a hug, each of us going through the now-familiar routine of explaining where we'd been and who we'd lost over the past two years. Eventually, she brought the discussion around to the pregnancy, and I explained my guesstimated timeline and concerns. 

"I'm happy to assist when the time comes," she said, "but you'll need to send someone to find me as soon as you think you're in active labor. Without telephones, it's been difficult to make sure I'm there for every birth so it would be good if you've got someone else who can help if I can't get there. Your mom and sisters should be fine, and I'll write down some instructions. You've done this before, and your body will know what to do, I promise." 

I nodded nervously, "What if something goes wrong?" I asked bluntly. "What's the maternal and infant mortality rate these days?" She sighed, and rubbed her forehead. "About 1% and 15% respectively," she admitted, "but less if you've had successful vaginal births before, which you have." 

"I know," I admitted, "but that was ten years ago. I also . . . I also had quite a bit of trauma to my vaginal canal and I'm not sure if that's going to cause problems. There's some scar tissue, I think." 

She stayed very professional, but I could see the pity in her eyes and swallowed my pride. "I don't think that should be an issue, especially with good perineal massage, but I'm glad you told me. If necessary we'll do an episiotomy." 

Jenny and I left with her list of instructions on what to gather, including herbs that I had in my kit. As we walked back to the farm, Jenny carefully brought the conversation around to Daryl. "How's he handling all this?" she asked. "I know it was rough there for a while, but it seems like he's really focused on making a home for all three of you now." 

I nodded and smiled at her, a little watery from the ever-present hormones. "Yes, he's being very sweet. He even read a book Daphne gave him and talked to Mama about my previous experiences with labor. And of course, he's taking care of anything tangible we'll need. I am pretty nervous about labor, and we haven't talked about it much. I don't really know how he'll deal with it, and I probably won't have the ability to cope with any issues he might have at that point, so I'm tempted to tell him he should just go hunting or something until it's over." 

Jenny laughed, but I was half serious. Even with an epidural, I'd had no patience for Raph's squeamishness during my labors and I knew if Daryl started freaking out I'd lose it on him. "Well, maybe Daddy can keep him occupied with something useful," Jenny suggested. "But if he wants to be there, are you going to let him?" 

"I guess?" I said uncertainly. "I mean, if he wants to, he should. It's just going to be so much messier and more real than if we were in a hospital. Though that’s a pretty good description for everything these days.”

__________

We got back as Daryl was coming back from the cabin and the rest of the family was finishing up the evening chores. I pulled Herschel aside and showed him the notes from the midwife and he reassured me that he had plenty of sterile cloths and a mat to protect the bed. I realized we'd probably be moved into the cabin by then, and wondered if I'd give birth there, or maybe in my parents' spare room so my mom could help look after me and the baby. 

I brought it up with Daryl a few days later while I was helping him at the cabin. "I talked to the midwife," I said, picking up scraps of wood from the ground around the new porch steps. "She thinks she'll be able to get here but she gave me a bunch of information in case Herschel needs to deliver it. He says he has everything he needs, but I was wondering if you'd thought about where we should plan to have it." 

Daryl had stopped sanding the porch railing to listen, and I met his eyes. "I mean, were you planning on me having it here, or do you think it would be better to have it at my parents' house and stay there for a couple of days until I can get around pretty well?" 

He looked behind him at the almost finished cabin and then back at me. "I guess I thought here. I mean, it'll be done and I thought we'd be moved in. If y'wanna be at yer folks that's fine though." 

"I'd rather be here, actually," I said, smiling at him. "That way afterward people can leave and it'll just be us." When he didn't respond, I realized he might have imagined having the whole group around to help, as we had at the prison. 

"Or not," I continued nervously, "I mean, if you want other people around, that's totally fine. I was mostly asking because I thought maybe you wouldn't want that happening in the bed you have to sleep in, you know? Of course, it'll all be covered up, but you know, the idea . . . And obviously you aren't required to be there, and we can clean it up quickly afterward, but for some people even the thought of a home birth is weird so -" 

I knew I was babbling, but Daryl's expression was completely blank and I was starting to panic that just discussing labor was going to send him running for the hills. Even Raph had refused to watch Luke and Lucy's birth, commenting that he didn't really want to see my vagina "doing that," and choosing to stand at my head and be "emotionally supportive," and he certainly wouldn't have wanted anything that bloody happening in our bedroom. 

Daryl finally went back to sanding. "Here's good," he said shortly, and I breathed a sigh of relief. As we continued to work in silence, however, I couldn't stop thinking about the labor and delivery, and the aftermath. Raph and I never had the kind of intense sexual relationship I had with Daryl, and I was starting to worry that having the baby, especially in such an intimate setting, would affect us. 

I wasn't afraid that Daryl would leave - he was nothing if not reliable when it came to providing and protecting - but I did worry that he'd stop seeing me the same way he had before, and deep down I still felt insecure about the girl from the bar he'd woken up with. The pregnancy hormones, and the fact that I was getting bigger every day didn't help the matter. 

We ate dinner with the group that night and discussed the progress on the cabin. My dad's friend used to be a plumber and had helped connect the cabin to the well on my grandfather's property, which was powered by solar panels. They were hard to come by though, so we couldn't get any to provide electricity at the cabin and we'd have to use lanterns and candles for the time being. Daryl had found a wood stove that had a couple of burners on top so we could do some basic cooking, though any baking or bigger project would need to be done at the main house with the gas stove. Daryl thought he'd be done with the interior by early December, giving us time to move in and get settled before the baby. 


	56. Ridiculous

As I continued to get bigger in the third trimester, the discomfort also grew, and I found myself wondering how women in the past had dealt with pregnancy while continuing to do so much physical labor. My back hurt from doing chores in the mornings, even though everyone else took the heavier lifting, but sitting still for other projects like mending or knitting weren't comfortable either. I tried not to complain much, as Daryl was spending long days up at the cabin and exhausted by the time he got back, but it was wearing on me. Along with the discomfort came the wild mood swings, and insecurity about the way I looked as well as how the baby would change things, and I often lay awake at night worrying before I finally managed to drift off. 

I couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep at all one night, though Daryl passed out quickly. The baby was kicking incessantly, and I'd been dealing with round ligament and sciatic pain the past couple of days, not to mention having to pee constantly. I was trying to stay still so Daryl could sleep, but eventually I decided I should just go for a walk, which sometimes helped. I tried to get out of bed carefully, without disturbing him, but he snagged the back of my shirt before I could. "Go back to sleep," I whispered, "I'm fine, just going for a walk."

"Like hell y'are," he muttered sleepily, "ain't safe. Jus' lie back down and go to sleep." Frustrated, I flopped back down and tried not to be resentful that he was sleeping soundly, but my thoughts began circling back to the usual worries. By the time I had to get up and go to the bathroom, around 2 am, my sleep-deprived and hormone-ridden brain had convinced me that Daryl wouldn't want to touch me ever again once the baby arrived and that I would have to do the noble thing and cut him loose so he could find happiness somewhere else. 

I got back into bed after peeing, wiping away the tears that had soaked my pillow as I'd been spiraling over the past several hours, and found Daryl awake and looking alarmed. "Baby, what's wrong?" he asked, confused and sleepy. My favorite pet name was just too much, and I burst into tears and buried my face in my pillow. He tried to get me to look at him or tell him what was wrong but I just shook my head and cried some more. 

Eventually, he sat up, scooped his arms underneath me, and pulled me into his lap. "Tell me what's wrong, or I'm gonna have ta go find someone else to help," he threatened, and I shook my head frantically. "So tell me," he pleaded. 

I took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the worst of the tears and my runny nose with my sleeve, aware that I was a mess and feeling even worse because of it. "I c-can't tell you b-because you'll just deny it and w-won't be honest ab-bout it," I hiccuped and I felt him go rigid underneath me. 

"I never lied to ya," he said quietly. "Even when I could've and it woulda made things a lot easier." I realized what he was talking about and shook my head, gulping in another shuddering breath. "That's not what I m-mean. I know you don't l-lie. But you don't w-want me to feel bad so you m-might not say what you r-really think." He relaxed slightly and sighed, pushing my chin up so he could look me in the eye. "I'll tell ya what I really think, I promise," he said solemnly, and my eyes welled up again, but I wiped away the tears and blurted it all out at once. 

"I'm just gonna be so gross after I have the baby, and there's going to be so much blood and fluid and, and, and tearing, and you're never going to want me after seeing me like that, with a baby coming out of my vagina and then afterward I'll be bleeding for a long time, and there will be milk everywhere, and you'll be all sexually frustrated and grossed out by me, and then maybe you'll feel sorry for me and so you'll have sex with me anyway, but you won't really want to and I'll know. Or what if I _don't_ know and I think you're fine and you really aren't, but you won't tell me and then you just have this secretly miserable life -" 

Daryl clapped a hand over my mouth, halting the word vomit. He looked at my wet face, wet shirt, and down at my soaked pillow. "Have you been cryin' about this all night?" he asked, without removing his hand. I nodded solemnly, more tears spilling over his hand. Daryl bit down hard on his lower lip and after a second I realized he was trying not to laugh. I slapped his hand away from my mouth, suddenly furious. "You're _laughing_? You think this is _funny_?" I growled, and he shook his head but rubbed his hands over his face and I could tell he was keeping himself from smiling. 

I tried to crawl out of his lap, but he grabbed me tightly and pulled me back against him. "Let me go," I demanded, no longer crying. "No," he said firmly, "you're being ridiculous." That pissed me off even more. "Ridiculous? I finally tell you everything I've been worrying about for weeks, and you think I'm ridiculous?" I sucked in a breath to tell him exactly what an ass he was being, but he clapped a hand over my mouth again. 

"Stop talking," he barked, and I stilled, eyes widening over his hand. "Good girl," he said more quietly, and I glared at him, annoyed that I was getting turned on by his orders when I was trying to be mad at him. His eyes flicked to my traitorous nipples, visibly hard through my t-shirt, and he bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hide his amusement. 

"Can you be quiet if I take my hand away?" he asked, but I just crossed my arms over my breasts and kept glaring daggers at him. "Okay, have it your way," he said, keeping one hand over my mouth and using the other to pull me further into his lap. 

"I will always want you," he said in a low voice, the humor gone. "Always, no matter what. B'fore I met you, I thought I couldn' ever find anyone I'd wanna be around all the time, or that I'd get bored havin' sex with the same person forever. But with you, I get it. I can fuck you every night, and wake up wanting more. I wanted you when you were pukin' yer guts out for weeks, and when you were skin and bones when we were on the road, or covered in walker guts. And not just for sex - I wanted all of you, or whatever you could give me. Before we figured our shit out, when we'd have watch together and you'd just talk about all the stuff you were thinkin', that was the best part a my day. And I thought, because of the Governor, that maybe you wouldn' ever want anything except someone to talk to, and I didn' care, I coulda lived with that. So watchin' you have this baby? Ain't gonna freak me out or change anythin' about the way I see ya."

By the time he finished the longest speech I'd ever heard him make, I was crying again. He pulled his hand away, and I kissed him hungrily, not caring that I was getting his face wet too. "So you don't mind the belly?" I asked between kisses, and he shook his head. "Fuckin' hot," he muttered. "Not like I ever had a pregnancy fetish or somethin' but on you, with our baby, it's the hottest thing I've ever seen."

"And you won't mind the milk?" I continued, as he pulled off my shirt and began kissing said belly. He moved up to my swollen breasts and sucked on one aching nipple, sending a current of electricity straight between my legs. "Can I lick it off you?" he asked, and I let out something between a moan and whimper, unexpectedly aroused by the thought. "Yes," I said breathlessly, "please". 

He proceeded to worship every inch of my body until I couldn't possibly feel anything but beautiful, and conveniently rocked the baby to sleep at the same time. I lay next to him afterward, finally comfortable, and realized that I had, actually, been a little ridiculous. "I may have been slightly irrational," I said meekly, and his chest vibrated in silent laughter. "In my defense," I continued quickly, "I've hardly had any sleep lately so I'm not thinking very clearly." 

"Why can't ya sleep?" he asked. "The baby's just always kicking, or my back hurts from it sitting on my sciatic nerve, or I have heartburn, or I have to pee. All normal, just exhausting. Are you worried about anything with the baby?" 

The sudden subject change caught him off guard and he didn't answer for a minute. "Don' want ya to go through all that pain," he said quietly. "Y'already been through too much, and I thought I might lose you. Somethin' could go wrong with this. Or somethin' could be wrong with the baby." 

"Mmhmm," I murmured. "I think the chances are pretty low though. And with . . . before . . . that was all pain and blood and trauma until I lost consciousness. This will last longer, and it will hurt really badly but will be for something good. And now that I think about it, I probably should have remembered that you already saw me all bloody and torn up and still ended up wanting me." 

I meant it to lighten the mood, but he exhaled roughly and turned so I was on my back and he was hovering over me. "I've never been that scared, before or since. There was so much blood and Maggie was freakin out, thought you were gonna bleed out in the truck. When you passed out we thought for a minute you . . . after that, I stopped tryin' not to be - not to care." 

We'd never talked before about what happened with the Governor, or the way our relationship had changed after that. "I knew when I saw you holding Judith that I was in love with you," I said, "there was all this horrible stuff everywhere, and we'd just lost T-Dog and Lori, Rick had lost his mind, Carol was missing, and I felt so guilty about it, but I couldn't help it. And then after the Governor I only felt safe when you were around and I just fell deeper every day." 

"Didn' think we'd ever be here," Daryl admitted, looking around. "Thought maybe I'd be able to have ya for a while, if I could keep ya safe, and then you could come back to yer family and I'd figure out how to be okay with that." I leaned up and kissed him again. "You are my family," I said, "and you're stuck with me now, Dixon." 


	57. Christmas

We moved into the cabin on December 5th, the day after my divorce judgment was signed. It was the only legal work I'd done in years and it was a bit surreal to be drafting paperwork again like I'd done a million times, but with my name as the petitioner and with a ballpoint pen instead of a computer. 

Raph hadn't said much, just glanced it over and signed it. Assets were a weird concept in this society, but I happily gave him the house and winery and we established joint custody for the kids. Matt, who was down at the courthouse pretty frequently, filed it for me, brought me the signed judgment, and left a copy with Raph as well, and we didn't talk about it again. Matt had been over a few times and had made it clear that I could begin working again whenever I wanted. The legal system was a mess, and they needed folks to help rewrite laws and procedures for this new world as well as do the hard work of shepherding the accused through the murky process. 

I appreciated his confidence in me, but I wasn't ready to jump back into it. There was too much to do, even if I hadn't been ready to pop out a baby, and Daryl and I hadn't talked about me going back to work. For the moment, legally ending my marriage and moving into our new home was plenty to focus on. 

The cabin was beautiful, rustic, and still smelling of freshly cut pine trees. For now, it was mostly one big room, with a kitchen area in one corner, and a small table, and a comfortable sofa near the woodstove. He'd enclosed the space on one side of the front door as a small bathroom, with a composting toilet and room to eventually add a bathtub or shower, if we could get solar panels to run a hot water heater someday. 

We'd eventually enclose the area next to the kitchen as a bedroom, but for now, it was open and just had a queen-sized mattress on the floor. We'd taken the furniture from the small apartment over the garage at my old house, which we used to use as an Airbnb, but would need to gradually figure out storage for clothing and baby supplies. 

Daryl had cut and split enough wood to last us the winter, but the cabin was cold that first morning, the fire having burned down into coals overnight. He got up and stoked it, then boiled water so I could have tea, while I watched from the cozy bed. I was constantly uncomfortable these days, and often grouchy, but at that moment I felt like I couldn't ask for anything more in life. 

Daryl may not have had much experience with relationships or talking about feelings, and I knew he still felt out of his depth in dealing with my family and the differences in our pasts, but he found satisfaction in sacrificing his own comfort in order to help others, especially when it came to me. And he was a fast learner, so despite his clear lack of experience with parenting and his deep-seated worry that he'd turn out like his father, I knew he'd be amazing. 

____________

Christmas was a quiet holiday relative to the old month-long string of traditions and parties. I went to my parent's house that morning and gave the kids the new mittens and hats I'd kitted them. The adults had stopped exchanging gifts when everything fell apart, but my mother had made her traditional cinnamon rolls and we enjoyed watching the little ones open their presents. 

The kids had gotten to a point where our new family structure seemed normal, and they'd spent some time at the cabin with me over the past couple of weeks. Luke was fascinated with Daryl's bow and had gone out with him a couple of times to practice shooting it, though he wasn't strong enough to draw the string back yet. Lucy, while still a little suspicious of him, had been mostly polite, and we'd worked through a lot of her big feelings through long talks. It was definitely weird to not live with my own children, and I really hoped they'd eventually be comfortable enough to spend nights at the cabin. 

Daryl had been up and out of the cabin before I'd left, planning to go hunting, so I'd put the small gift I'd wrapped for him on the table, labeled "To Daryl, from Santa". He hated sentimentality most of the time, and I was a little unsure of whether he'd resent the reminder that his childhood Christmases had been less than happy, but I also wanted to start making up for that. I'd traded some herbal remedies and salves in town for a set of carving tools in a soft leather case that rolled up. My dad had helped me emboss his name along the bottom edge of the case as well. He'd been spending the winter evenings whittling new bolts for his bow, but the knives he had were too bulky and he frequently got frustrated and had to scrap them when they cut a little too deeply.

I came back to the cabin and found that Daryl had apparently been working on a present for me too, and had set it up while I thought he was hunting. It was a bed frame, made from narrow logs, with a low footboard and a freeform pattern in the headboard, made from twisty willow branches. I was running my hand over the smooth curve of one of the posts when I heard him open the door, and turned around to find him watching me anxiously. 

"I love it," I said, wiping away the familiar tears (I couldn't wait to be done with the hormones), "it's incredibly beautiful, but you're a cheater, Daryl Dixon. You said you didn't want to celebrate Christmas." 

"It's Christmas?" he teased. "Must be a coincidence - I just finished the bed yesterday. And you didn' listen anyway unless you think I'm gonna buy that Santa Claus shit." I shook my head and kissed him soundly. "I don't know what you're talking about, but I do know we need to go back to bed. Just to make sure it's sturdy enough." He complied happily, and I thought, lying there later, that it was the best Christmas I could remember.


	58. Gracie

I started early labor on January 7th, with mildly painful contractions gradually getting closer together, but not strong enough to really move things along. This had happened with Luke and Lucy as well, and I'd spent two very long days waiting for "active labor" to begin with each of them. 

Daryl didn't know what to do with himself as I paced and cleaned and bent over to ease the backache when the contractions came. Eventually, I went down to my parents' house so that he'd feel like I was taken care of and could distract himself with some work. I finished knitting another soft blanket for the baby and looked again at the list of names I'd come up with. Daryl had shrugged when I asked his opinion, and said he didn't care - whatever I wanted was fine. I'd asked about using his mom's name if it was a girl, which was Marie, and he'd shaken his head but otherwise, he had no preference. 

I'd borrowed and laundered hand-me-down cloth diapers from my sisters' kids, as well as a few gender-neutral outfits. Daryl had crafted a three-sided bassinet that attached to our bed as a co-sleeper, something I'd used and loved with Lucy, so I felt fairly prepared. Herschel had left a large piece of washable waterproof sheeting at the cabin a few days before, and we had plenty of clean rags set aside. 

My water broke at exactly noon on January 8th while I was standing in the kitchen hugging Maggie, who had just found out she was also pregnant. We both looked down at the sound of water hitting the floor, and she jerked her head up with big eyes. "It's fine," I reassured her, "but maybe you could walk me up to the cabin, and then find Daryl." 

Luke and Lucy's labor had really kicked in as soon as my water broke, and had last 6 and 8 hours, respectively, so I knew there would be plenty of time. We took the walk to the cabin slowly, pausing while I breathed through a contraction, but found Daryl splitting wood outside. "Her water broke!" Maggie blurted out, and he went slightly pale under his tan. 

"Relax," I assured both of them calmly. "This isn't going to be over anytime soon. Maggie, can you let Jenny know to go notify the midwife? And maybe give your dad a heads up?" She nodded and left, somewhat eager to hand me over to Daryl. 

I began pacing the cabin, stopping to bend over a chair or the bed, and breathe through each contraction as they gradually built in intensity. After about 30 minutes they were painful enough that I was whimpering and Daryl, who had alternated been rubbing my back and hovering nervously by the door announced that he was going to go get Herschel. "Daryl," I said through gritted teeth, "this is going to go on for eight hours. Just sit down and get comfortable." 

He rubbed his face and nodded, but didn't sit down, choosing instead to lean against the wall near the door and fidget with some bolts he'd been working on the night before. I continued pacing, occasionally resting on the bed between contractions as they continued to get more painful. Eventually, I reached the dreaded vomiting stage, followed by intense dizziness and the feeling that I was going to pass out from the pain. 

Herschel arrived at some point and informed me that Jenny hadn't been able to locate the midwife yet, but was still trying. I didn't particularly care right then - the vertigo had mercifully passed but the pain was intense enough that I was muffling guttural screams in my pillow at the height of each contraction. 

My mom also arrived, and fussed over Daryl for a while, concerned that he was going to pass out himself. She'd been there for my other two births and was used to Raph's squeamishness but Daryl waved her off. He'd moved to a chair at the table, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, head bent most of the time. When I'd start screaming or sobbing through a contraction he'd look up as if he was forcing himself to watch. 

I was so exhausted I couldn't keep walking, so my mom had stripped the bed and laid down the protective sheet, and they'd propped me up with pillows so I was mostly seated, trying to let gravity help. I was drenched in sweat, despite the cold weather, and stripped down to just one of Daryl's shirts, which I figured worked as well as a hospital gown. 

After about five hours, Herschel examined me and announced that I was dilated to about 8 centimeters, which meant I was in transition, and nearing the end. I felt completely out of it, unable to focus on anything except the pain, which was basically constant, with almost no breaks between contractions. My voice was hoarse, and I was pretty sure I'd shocked my mother with all the 'fucks' I'd screamed. 

A short time later I felt the overwhelming need to push, a feeling I remembered well from my previous babies. It's something I'd marveled at later, and reflected on as beautiful - your body takes over and does something you've never learned to do before, and you can't stop it. "I have to push," I gritted out breathlessly, and Herschel nodded, moving to the end of the bed. My mother shifted the pillows so I could be as upright as possible, and I braced my legs on the posts of the bed. 

The noises one is capable of while pushing a baby's head out of their vagina are remarkable. There's a deep connectedness to your body, the earth, and all the other women who've gone through the same experience, in the midst of intense pain and pressure. I pushed, pulling the last of my strength from somewhere, and heard Herschel say he could see the head. I felt my muscles prepare to push again and reached out blindly to hold on to something, which ended up being Daryl's hand. I hadn't noticed that he was next to Herschel but gripped him as hard as I could and pushed, sobbing. A sudden release of pressure, rush of fluid, and soft "there!" from my mother, and the baby was out. 

I heard the familiar newborn wail, Daryl whisper, "Jesus fucking Christ" and I opened my eyes to see through the blur that Herschel was holding the baby, wiping it off gently while he examined it carefully, and then handed it to Daryl to cut the umbilical cord. I had let go of his hand and collapsed back on the pillows, unable to do anything but blink dazedly at the commotion. "A healthy baby girl," Herschel said, giving my mother a hug. 

Daryl finally looked away from the bundle in his arms and met my eyes, and I realized he had tears in his. I had the uncontrollable post-delivery tears too, mixed with sheer joy, though I was too exhausted to pay attention to anything except the figures in front of me. Daryl sat carefully on the edge of the bed and I peered at the tiny perfect face, scrunched up and red. She was still streaked with some blood and fluids but she was beautiful. I looked up at Daryl, who seemed mesmerized, and leaned my head against his shoulder, tired enough that my eyes drifted shut. 

"What's her name?" I asked sleepily, and Daryl said without hesitation, "Grace. Grace Marie." It was one of the names from my list, which he'd apparently studied more than I'd realized. I looked up at him, still holding our perfect daughter, and shifted over so he could sit more fully next to me on the bed. Herschel and my mother had been cleaning me up, Herschel putting in a couple of stitches that I hardly felt, and had moved away from us a bit, giving us some space. 

Daryl set Grace down on the bed between us, and she squirmed, already rooting. "Hi, Gracie-girl" I murmured, stroking her cheek. I unbuttoned my shirt and let her latch on, feeling the familiar sensation of milk letting down. My head rested on the pillow and I pulled Daryl's hand over both of us to rest on my hip, letting myself drift off in a light sleep wrapped in the security of having them both with me. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just the epilogue left! So grateful to everyone who's read this, left kudos, and commented! This was my first fanfic and it's been so much fun. I have another Daryl/OC story completed, a little shorter, that I'll be posting next.


	59. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! I've written a few outtakes/missing scenes that I might eventually post but the main story has wrapped up and I'm so thankful for everyone who's been reading and leaving lovely comments.

** 2 1/2 Years Later **

_Oh, I can't  
Stop you puttin' roots in my dreamland  
My house of stone, your ivy grows  
And now I'm covered in you_

It was my first day back in the courtroom arguing a case. I'd technically been working for the past couple of years, but it was essentially just paperwork; drafting appeals and assisting in rewriting the court system to function in a more limited society, and I did most of it from home. The child welfare program was basically nonexistent, and I'd focused on changing the old laws and regulations to be manageable within the resources available to the state, while still placing children's needs first. 

I'd been nervous that Daryl would hate the idea of me doing my old job - he still felt like we didn't belong together in the eyes of everyone else - but he'd encouraged me to get back into it and seemed proud of what I'd accomplished. He'd happily taken more of the responsibilities with Gracie while building a reputation for being able to fix just about any kind of machinery and now had as much work as he wanted. 

The homegrown fuel industry had expanded until there was enough supply to allow for some car travel, so I'd started going to the office occasionally to meet with Matt or other lawyers, and a few weeks ago I'd officially moved back into representing clients. Today was my first hearing, on a release agreement, and I'd been incredibly nervous. I'd put on makeup and twisted back my hair, which usually fell loose and wavy, and put on one of my old suits, taken in slightly now that our very active lifestyle kept me fit. I was even wearing heels and earrings, and it all felt a little surreal. 

We'd made a lot of progress over the past three years, and now had telephone lines and dial-up internet, though it seemed to be down every other day. The electrical grid was more or less restored, with occasional blackouts, so while we still had to file pleadings by hand, some of the old familiar routines were back. Raph had given me my favorite of our old cars, a Volvo S90 that had been very luxurious back when we'd purchased it but had suffered a bit sitting for all those years. It ran roughly, but I was just thankful I didn't have to walk to the courthouse in my heels. 

The hearing went smoothly and my client was released from jail, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I drove home, rolling down the window to let the warm summer breeze in. I turned down the dirt road that now led to the cabin and saw Daryl tinkering with a motorcycle out front. Gracie was with my mom today, and Daryl had spent the morning hunting but had evidently returned early. He had found an old bike that was apparently in relatively good shape and had been working on it off and on for a few weeks. 

I got out of the car and he looked up and I was struck with deja vu, standing there in my suit and heels next to a fancy car. I could tell he was thinking the same thing, a faint smirk hovering around his mouth. 

"Hey there," I said, schooling my face to look somewhat anxious. "There's something wrong with my car, do you think you could take a look?" He raised his eyebrows, but grabbed a grease rag, and wiped his hands before walking over to my car. He opened the front door so he could pop the hood, then stood behind me looking down at the engine. "What exactly is the problem?" he asked, and I shrugged. "It's just running kind of rough," I said, my breath hitching as he pressed himself against me slightly from behind, fingers tracing the waistband of my pants. 

"Hmmm," he murmured, slowly untucking my blouse. "Did you notice any lights on the dash?" 

"N-no," I stuttered, as his fingers undid my buttons. "I wasn't paying much attention, actually." He _tssked_ in my ear and then tugged on the lobe with his teeth before moving down to kiss and suck on my neck, fingers pulling down the cups of my bra so my breasts spilled over the top. 

"You should take better care of your cars, Princess," he said in a low voice that went straight to my clit, my eyes fluttering shut. "Especially if yer gonna drive this touchy European shit." I nodded, arching back into him as he tugged and rolled my nipples, my voice breathy. "You're right, I should. Maybe you can show me how?" 

He flicked open the button on my pants and slipped his hand in, groaning slightly at the wet heat. "I guess I could do that," he rasped, "but you'll have to do exactly what I say." I nodded, and he moved back a step, slammed the hood shut, and then pressed down on my shoulder blades so I had to lean over it, bare breasts against the warm metal. "Firs' thing is to check yer fluids regularly," he said, tugging my pants and underwear down and trailing his fingers through my wet folds from behind. "An if there's not enough, you need to add more."

I was pretty sure there was 'enough' but he pushed one of my knees up on the bumper and crouched down, fucking me with his tongue for a few minutes, adding 'more' quite effectively. "Then," he continued, straightening up and licking his lips, "Y'gotta check every part, making sure it's all workin' right." He turned me around and pushed me back gently so I laid on the hood, then took his time checking that every nerve ending responded satisfactorily to his mouth and fingers. When I tried to kiss him, he shook his head and looked at me disapprovingly. 

"That's not appropriate with a dirty mechanic y'jus' met," he scolded seriously, "especially not for a respectable mother and lawyer," and I bit my lip to hide my smile. "Then, once you've checked to make sure it's all runnin' perfectly," he continued, tugging his pants down his hips, "you can drive it." He pushed into me, hard and hot, and I whimpered at the sensation that never failed to send a thrill through me. 

I knew it was a risk, lying exposed there on the car hood for anyone to see. Rick sometimes stopped by to get Daryl's help with something, and Maggie or Carol often dropped in unexpectedly, but the idea of getting caught just aroused me more, and I met his thrusts, arching into him while the wave of tension built in my abdomen. 

He bent to lick and suck my nipples again, and then moved to my mouth, tangling his tongue with mine. "I thought that wasn't appropriate," I gasped, as his thrusts grew harder and faster. "Don' fuckin' care," he growled, "wanted to taste yer lips the first time I saw ya standin' in the road." The unexpected confession sent me tumbling into my orgasm with a cry, and my walls clamped down around him, pulling him to his own climax. 

He pulled me gently up after we caught our breath but stepped back to look at me for a minute, scanning my mussed hair, open shirt, bare breasts, and the wetness trickling out on the hood between my legs. "Yeah," he muttered half to himself. "That was pretty much it." He grabbed a clean rag and cleaned me up gently, and I rested my forehead on his shoulder. "Pretty much what?" I asked, and he set the rag down and ran his hands up my neck and into my hair. "What I thought about while you slept on my couch," he admitted reluctantly, and I smiled. "Better late than never, I guess?" I asked, and he kissed me, picking me up so I could wrap my legs around him. "Better now than then," he said, "got a bigger bed to continue this with," and I laughed as he carried me inside.

-The End- 


End file.
